


andromeda

by bloominsummer



Series: konstelasi [1]
Category: K-pop, SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternate universe - Mafia, Blood and Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Past Kim Mingyu/Xu Ming Hao | The 8, Pining, Weapons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:42:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 59,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22953529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloominsummer/pseuds/bloominsummer
Summary: After an outrageous display of disobedience that jeopardises the future of his group, Kim Mingyu is assigned a new security detail under the orders of his father. Little did he know, Jeon Wonwoo hides a raging storm behind those soulless eyes of his.
Relationships: Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Hong Jisoo | Joshua, Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Hong Jisoo | Joshua/Yoon Jeonghan, Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Yoon Jeonghan, Hong Jisoo | Joshua/Yoon Jeonghan, Jeon Wonwoo/Kim Mingyu
Series: konstelasi [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1716385
Comments: 126
Kudos: 506





	1. Ch. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! this is something different than what I'm used to writing, but I hope the experimentation works out. 
> 
> Relevant warnings to each chapter will be posted in the beginning notes, so look out for that. Tags will also be updated as we go along. In an attempt to be more organised for myself, I've created a [thread](https://twitter.com/bioominsummer/status/1233563569439965185?s=20) in which I'll be posting work progress, excerpts, etc.
> 
> Other than that, strap on tight and enjoy the ride!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Wonwoo’s here to keep me on a tighter leash,” he wiggles his better leg underneath Jisoo’s body, teasing, “not protect me from the big, bad wolf. I _am_ the big, bad wolf.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for Chapter 1: use of guns, description of blood, and aftermath of assault.

_for Andromeda had to pay the price for a parent’s arrogance before she was saved by someone whose soul she ended up liberating in return. Her constellation is often pictured with her arms outstretched, chained to the rock where she awaited her death, but the truth is that she is free, resting amongst the stars for all of eternity._ ****

* * *

Mingyu leans forward until his forehead meets the barrel of the Ruger SR9c. The tip is cool against his skin, which indicates that the gun is yet to be used tonight. If he’s lucky, he’ll be its first victim. That way, at least most of his sufferings will cease.

“Go on,” he says calmly, braver than he thinks he’s ever been in all 27 years of his life. It might be the adrenaline rush talking, but for now, Mingyu will take it as he feels it. “Give me a quick death.”

Behind him, the lady of the house is scrambling for her clothes in a futile attempt to cover her indecently exposed figure. Her movements are frantic, limbs flying in haste, though she remains nothing more than a blurred figure from the corner of his eyes. In the moments leading up to one’s death, Mingyu supposes one’s mind stops paying attention to the insignificant litter of details present in their surrounding.

He hears a click. He’s not sure if it’s the hammer of the gun being pulled back or something else, he’s not even sure if it comes from the one that’s in direct contact with his head, cold metal repositioned on his flushed skin. There’s quite a number of weapon aimed in his direction right now. In the room stood three, four men at the very least, each and every single one of them sporting the same tiger head tattoo underneath their cuffed sleeves. 

Within seconds, his brain matter could be splattered all over the place—that is, if his insides don’t spill out first. The man standing directly in front of Mingyu looks down at him, disinterest painted vividly across his features. 

Like the situation bores him, like he’s done this plenty before, like he’s going to do it again soon enough. It’s a routine for them to eliminate pests that slip inside their household through the small cracks on the walls.

“You’re a brave young man.” His tone tells Mingyu he couldn’t mean his words any less. _You’re just as stupid as the last boy who tried._ “Any last words?”

“Yes.” Mingyu nods, setting his mouth in a thin line. He hopes it doesn’t quirk into a smirk too soon or he might ruin the execution of his plan. “My name is Kim Mingyu.”

A flicker of recognition in his pair of hooded eyes, then the man’s gun lowers. The others follow suit, albeit hesitant in their action.

Mingyu breathes through his nose; a long, emptying exhale that completely depletes his lung of air. Today is not the day he dies, it seems, and the previous breath is not his last.

How unfortunate for him.

☆

A week after his near-death experience, Jisoo ambushes him in his room sometime before the clock even strikes seven. Mingyu has barely enough time to cover what’s remained of his virtues with his bedsheets before another man appears on the older’s tail. Tall, dark-haired combed neatly to expose his forehead and his other handsome features. Very easy on the eyes, hard on the groins. 

After a quick assessment, Mingyu decides he especially likes the intensity of the man’s gaze. There’s a certain sharp quality to his eyes, although they seem trained not to let anything show.

“Your father assigned you additional detail.” 

Jisoo sits down by the edge of his bed, patting Mingyu’s right thigh with little to no force. Despite that, Mingyu still has to bite down on his tongue to hide the sharp pain shooting up to his stomach upon the contact. 

“This is Jeon Wonwoo.”

The man Jisoo introduces bows gracefully. He does it with such practised elegance, but Mingyu can see that he was never meant for it. Voluntary submission, that is. A man like that is supposed to be a ruler of a kingdom, not serve under one.

“Hello there, pretty.”

_Jeon Wonwoo_ remains unresponsive to Mingyu’s advances, despite the fact that he’s doing his best impression of Adonis without showing his bare chest. It usually works on people, men and women and those not limited to the two categories—but on Wonwoo his advances just bounce off sadly, meeting a concrete wall of resistance. 

“Nice to meet you, Mr Kim.”

Oh, well. Not everyone’s into sex appeal and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. Maybe his relationship with Wonwoo will strictly be professional until the end. What a waste, though, Mingyu rather enjoys his aesthetics. They’re quite pleasing. 

“That’s my dear old dad, don’t make me sound so ancient.” He waves his hand around. “Are you my hyung?”

“Yes, but Wonwoo is perfectly fine.”

Mingyu smiles at him as a token of appreciation for his efforts, then asks Jisoo sweetly, “Why do I need a new man?”

Jisoo, in turn, throws his body across Mingyu’s lower half as Mingyu tries his best not to wince from the sudden increase of pressure. Those stupid numbing cold sprays don’t work as well as the boasts on their packagings say. He’ll have to sneak out of the compound soon and purchase a better brand than the one he’s currently using.

The older man blows air from his mouth to get rid of the long, honey-coloured bangs that are falling into his eyes before he replies, “Because there’s a bounty on your head after what you’ve done.”

Mingyu hums.

“Wonwoo’s here to keep me on a tighter leash,” he wiggles his better leg underneath Jisoo’s body, teasing, “not protect me from the big, bad wolf. I _am_ the big, bad wolf.”

His best friend is apparently still pissed that Mingyu went on a suicide mission without as much as a warning delivered to him, because instead of indulging him in his playfulness, Jisoo squints his eyes at the younger and huffs.

“Yeah? And how many people have died by your hands?”

The answer is none. Zero. Nada. Absolutely no one has died directly by Mingyu’s hands, he’s a murder virgin, so to speak. A rather interesting achievement for one in his way of life.

Jisoo knows this for a fact, Mingyu also knows this, and Wonwoo, quick as a fox, seems to catch on to the answer, his feline-like eyes flitting between Jisoo and Mingyu. People have tried to study Mingyu all the time, failing for the most part as he never did what they expected of him, but there’s a steady thrum in his heart that whispers hope to him. It says, Wonwoo might be able to look into his soul—with eyes like those, he really might just do.

When Mingyu fails to give him an answer, Jisoo rises from the bed and pats himself down, straightening the hem of his shirt.

“Well, I’ll leave you two to it,” he looks between Mingyu and Wonwoo one last time, then goes out of the room.

Mingyu makes a mental note to apologise to him properly. He’s glossed over the matter for too long, it’s understandable that Jisoo’s anger only stews as time passes. 

After Jisoo left, Wonwoo remains by the door, still maintaining his formal stance while looking at Mingyu expectantly. There were days when Mingyu would have risen and let the sheets pool around his waist uncaringly, walks across the room in his naked glory and not give a single damn who stands witness to it. But now… he can’t. Not today, probably not for the next couple of weeks until the marks of his latest assault have properly faded.

“Are you going to turn around or are we skipping the foreplay and going straight to—“

“I’ll turn around,” Wonwoo speaks over him, reminding Mingyu once again of how deep and rich his voice is. “Though if you’re trying to hide the black and blue all over your body, there’s no use.”

He’s too stunned by Wonwoo's words to reply. Jisoo certainly didn’t notice it, or he wouldn’t have exited the room as light-hearted as he did. And Jisoo’s known him for what? More than fifteen years and counting. Jeon Wonwoo spends less than five minutes in the room with him and knows exactly what Mingyu is trying his damn hardest to hide. Either he’s very observant, or Mingyu is an open book to him. Neither option is preferable, it might even be dangerous.

Mingyu reminds himself that this man, who now has his back turned to him, is here on behalf of his father. He’s here to be the extension of the Devil’s hands, ready to whip Mingyu up to shape whenever necessary, to yank on the metaphorical collar around his neck when he’s about to step out of line. A grim reaper in disguise, posing as a guardian angel. It will be Mingyu’s downfall to mistake one of his roles for the other.

He stands from the bed and grabs his nightgown from the top of the dresser, making his way to the bathroom.

Mingyu makes sure to slam the door so hard the whole room shakes and he imagines, to his own small pleasure, that it’s enough to make Wonwoo jump in surprise. Lose his stoic composure for a second or two.

☆

Much to his annoyance, Wonwoo fulfils his every role perfectly. He’s never late to his post, if anything he’s often early. He does his morning rounds before Mingyu wakes up, so it’s not unusual that he’ll find Wonwoo waiting outside his door when he slips out of his room to hunt down breakfast, a hand slipped underneath his pyjama shirt, scratching idly at his stomach. Mingyu makes it a habit not to sleep bare-chested after that first day and to double-check the lock on his door before he goes to bed. 

The bodyguard isn’t talkative, but he is very _attentive_. He picks up on Mingyu’s likes and dislikes without trouble; he can already deliver Mingyu’s coffee the way he likes it. To be precise: black with one and a half sugar cube. He doesn’t ask intrusive questions, simply insists on walking into any room before Mingyu does and persistently trails along wherever the younger goes. 

The one exception? Wonwoo seems to make himself scarce whenever Mingyu wraps his arms around some stranger in a dim-lighted club that smells too much like cheap cologne mixed with sweat. 

He usually performs the deed after attending one of his father’s so-called progress meetings with his sub-group leaders. They tell Mingyu what’s what with the business and he’s to relay the information to his father when the time fits the leader’s convenience. These meetings often make his stomach churn in distaste from the casual way the men talk about their crimes and wrongdoings. 

Gambling, he can handle. Blackmailing public officials— sure, why not, those assholes probably deserve it for all the corrupt things they’ve done while they were supposed to be serving the public. Because of his past, drugs is a particularly sensitive matter to him, but the things these men boast about doing to women… it’s disgusting that they even think he would want to hear them. 

Acid always rises from his stomach to his throat upon hearing their stories and yet he’s entirely powerless to speak up against them. He’s got too much to lose at the moment, especially when the storm that came with the last stunt he pulled hasn’t passed completely. As a resort, he tries not to think about it by taking his pick among the people dance floor and fucking them until he’s numbed to his core.

He still feels Wonwoo’s eyes watching him in these moments, as he’s navigating himself through a sea of writhing bodies, but he fails to see any signs of the man. 

One night after yet another meeting, Mingyu stops Wonwoo from leaving his side with a hand curled around his wrist. Wonwoo sits back down in his chair. If he’s confused, it doesn’t show on his face. 

Feeling that the loud bass of the music is enough to keep their words hidden from prying ears, Mingyu leans in close to the raven-haired man. “What do you know about why you’re here?”

“I don’t ask for background information.” 

The way he says it seems to convey: _I can manage to find things out on my own._

“I only know the Kwon group is after you.” Wonwoo’s gaze meets his, but there isn’t anything there for Mingyu to decipher. He could easily be lying and Mingyu wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. “Did they jump you? The bruises.”

Over time they’ve spent together, Mingyu’s only managed to make a single conclusion regarding his bodyguard: Wonwoo really needs to learn how to let some things go. It has been weeks since then, the colouring of Mingyu’s tanned skin is almost back to its original tone. Whatever happened prior to Wonwoo entering his service should no longer be relevant to their current situation, but there are some answers that Wonwoo can only get from Mingyu and it looks like he’s determined to obtain them.

At any cost, which is what makes it even more terrifying.

“Does it matter? Forget about how the old ones are made and focus on making sure I don’t get new ones instead.”

_Don’t prod. Don’t stick your nose where it’s not supposed to, lest you want it broken and bleeding by the end. There’s nothing you can do, nothing either of us can do about this situation we’re trapped in._

Mingyu repeats those words in his head silently like a prayer, staring at Wonwoo hard in hopes they empathically travel in the small space between them and sink into the older man’s soul.

“So it’s not the Kwon men,” Wonwoo notes, nodding to himself. “I didn’t think so either.”

Scoffing, Mingyu leans away from him and crosses his arms across his chest. Wonwoo’s been _thinking_ , apparently. Is that why he’s so quiet all the time? The gears turning in his head takes up most of his energy, he barely has enough left to hold a proper conversation with just about anyone? Mingyu could use a conversation partner much more than a stoic protector robot. Nowadays, there aren’t a lot of people who’d talk to him without having any ulterior motives.

“Please, enlighten me, what else have you been thinking about?”

“I found it weird that you were beaten up all over your body but these parts,” he lifts a finger up to point at Mingyu’s neck and face, “are left untouched.”

“Men in our line of work don’t care about that. And no visible bruises that will show if you wear a short-sleeve shirt.” The finger now points to his wrist, exposed and free from the Devil’s claws. “I haven’t seen your legs, yet, but I suppose it’s the same consideration given.”

That was the most Wonwoo’s ever said to him in one go. Trying to keep his composure is a losing battle for Mingyu, but he manages to stretch his mouth in a false smile. 

“If you wanted to see me naked, you could’ve just asked.”

“Your father did it.”

The smile leaves Mingyu’s face in an instant. If there was a tinge of hesitation in his words, Mingyu could still brush the words off, but Wonwoo said them as if he knows it for a fact. It leaves Mingyu no wiggle room to pass it as a ridiculous accusation. 

Mingyu grips the edge of his seat tight to keep his hand busy. Otherwise, he might punch Wonwoo in the face for his unflinching boldness. No one enjoys being figured out by someone who’s practically a stranger to them, but this particular secret is heavier in weight than the gold Julius Caesar demanded for his own ransom. Should the information falls into the hands of the wrong people, it puts more than just his life at risk. He can’t have that.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Wonwoo exhales through his mouth, exasperation shown clearly in the way his eyes flash scarlet for a split second. 

“This arrangement will be easier for both of us if you at least attempt to be honest with me.”

His words result in a flare of anger in the pit of Mingyu’s stomach. _Honesty_. How dare Wonwoo ask that of him when they both know he’s not here for Mingyu’s sake? When they’re both aware that if he’s given instructions to snap Mingyu’s neck in his sleep, he would carry out the order and still maintain those same dead eyes the next day? Mingyu isn’t stupid, he isn’t gullible. Wonwoo has no right treating him as though he is.

“Just do your goddamn job and shut your mouth while you’re at it.” 

He doesn’t wait for Wonwoo to leave, instead he rises from his seat and stomps angrily all the way to the dance floor.

Mingyu invites the first girl he sees into one of the dingy bathroom stalls of the club and tries not to think of Wonwoo’s eyes penetrating his deeply as he keeps his shirt covering his chest the entire time he’s pounding into her.

☆

“Hey, I’m going out.” 

Wonwoo rises from his seat, immediately buttoning his jacket. “Where to?”

“Don’t know.” He shakes his head. “Some club, probably. Do you have to come?”

He’s hoping the answer is a simple _no_ , because Wonwoo is never a good wingman and Mingyu is in desperate need of some sexual relief right now. Honestly, it will be awkward as hell to have sex with someone while the person you’re sexually attracted to the most at the moment stands guard outside the door. Still, it’s better than the alternative, which probably includes something stupid like pining Wonwoo against the wall and having his way with the bodyguard.

“Wait here,” Wonwoo tells him when Mingyu moves toward the door. “I’ll clear your leave first.”

Mingyu’s first mistake of the night: he brushes off Wonwoo’s concern with a wave of a hand.

“Relax, Wonwoo. I’ve snuck out plenty.”

“That was before I’m responsible for you.”

Mingyu’s second mistake of the night: he challenges Wonwoo’s authority because he thinks, just like the others before him, Wonwoo is a pushover who will bend to his will if Mingyu pressures him hard enough. He doesn’t know why he even _dares_ think that, considering he knows exactly how well Wonwoo has been performing this past couple of months. But he’s not a Kim if he’s not reckless at times when he shouldn’t be.

“Not gonna die if I go out and fuck, okay?” Annoyance seeps into his speech. “Just watch my back like you’re supposed to.”

“Wait here,” Wonwoo repeats, his voice hardening at Mingyu’s refusal to listen to him. “I’ll clear your leave.” 

Any other time, his authoritative tone would send a pleasurable shiver down Mingyu’s spine. Tonight, however, it just vexes him. So Mingyu makes his third and final mistake, his undoing: he ignores Wonwoo’s words and slings his jacket over his shoulders, turning his back on his bodyguard.

Halfway across the living room, two shots burst through the air. On instinct, Mingyu ducks sideways behind the couch, his ears ringing wildly. How the hell did anyone get in here so quick? There was only him and that damned man a moment ago. 

From the floor’s vibration he feels on his back of thighs, his shooter is approaching him with slow, steady steps instead of hurried ones. Mingyu blindly pats underneath the couch for a spare Glock. He finds one, pulls it out and points it at the man now crouching in front of him—only to realise that it’s none other than Wonwoo.

Mingyu tosses the gun a good five feet away from them, not wanting to touch it a second longer than necessary now that he knows the threat isn’t really a threat. If Wonwoo’s here, he’s got enough bullets to cover both of them until reinforcements arrive.

“You’re not cleared to leave.” Wonwoo’s voice is distorted because Mingyu’s ears are still fucking ringing from the shot. He has to resort to reading the older’s lips to catch his words. “Next time you pretend like you can’t hear me, the bullet goes to your leg. My contract only said to keep you alive, it didn’t specify in what conditions.”

Wonwoo pats his leg to make a point and that’s when it hits him: this psychopath had shot at him.

Mingyu opens his mouth to shout at him, but before he has the chance to, there are men scrambling through the door with their guns held up. Reinforcement. 

Too damn late, he thinks bitterly. If Wonwoo wanted him dead he would have been a corpse right now.

“It’s okay,” Wonwoo says calmly to the lackeys Mingyu's father had assigned to him. He’s still facing Mingyu, his expression neutral like he hadn’t just pulled a horrendous act. “The young master wanted to try pulling the trigger. Target practice for his enemies.”

When Mingyu glances at them, they don’t look so convinced. His father’s people might not be the brightest of the bunch, but they aren’t the biggest of fools either. Mingyu is still crouching behind the couch with his hands now covering his ears, the Glock laid unused on the marble floor. His eyes are wild from shock, he can feel his erratic pulse pressing against his cheek. What Wonwoo said makes absolutely no sense, even an idiot can see that. 

Yet. 

There’s a gleam of danger in Wonwoo’s careful smile, the one that makes the men back away slowly from the door and nod to themselves before returning to their respective posts without as much as a word in protest.

That night, Mingyu learns that Jeon Wonwoo is a force to be reckoned with.

☆

It’s entirely ironic how Wonwoo had shot at Mingyu to stop him from leaving that day, but the first night they finally got the green light to breathe in some fresh air outside the compound, Wonwoo is the one who gets a bullet put inside him.

“I’m hit,” Wonwoo states flatly as he looks down, as if Mingyu can’t see the blood gushing out from the entry wound on his lower stomach. He lifts his gaze up at Mingyu and wipes his face, leaving a streak of bright red across his cheek—like wet paint. “You should run.” 

He _should_.

His usual men are all scattered in the wind, probably chasing the shooter or covering their own asses. Both options are equally likely. After all, no one wants to die for a spoiled brat who only knows how to wreak havoc upon other people’s life.

Mingyu’s thinking about his next move when a gun is shoved in his hand. Wonwoo’s, his special one, the one with the purplish handle. He’d been meaning to ask if there’s a meaning behind it, but now in order to allow that possibility, they first have to survive.

So, “No fucking way,” is what he adamantly tells Wonwoo.

“Don’t be stubborn.” Mingyu wonders how the hell is he still calm while literally asking to be left for dead. “There’s a higher chance of survival if you leave right now, alone. I’m dead-weight.”

Discarding his jacket, Mingyu gives it to Wonwoo to put pressure over the entry wound. “The exit route is down—” Wonwoo starts again, but Mingyu shushes him.

“Not leaving.”

Wonwoo sighs exasperatedly, possibly enough to annoy Mingyu on a good day. If it weren’t for the fact that Wonwoo’s bleeding in his arms because he had shoved Mingyu out of the bullet’s trajectory, Mingyu would gladly pick a fight with him right there and then for thinking he knows what’s best for the both of them.

“Mingyu, I’m not worth it.” 

He stares at the older, hard, but Wonwoo shows no sign of wavering from his statement. “What happened to you that you can talk about yourself like this and mean it?” 

Wonwoo opens his mouth, then lets out a series of painful coughs. Mingyu has a vague idea of how the situation will escalate: a minute more and those coughs will turn bloody. 

“Never mind. Answer me later, once we _both_ get out of here alive.”

The older man finally nods at that. Good, at least he’s stopped telling Mingyu to ditch him.

“Should I—tie? Belt?” Mingyu cups Wonwoo’s face to get his bodyguard to look at him.

“Better than nothing.” 

So Mingyu undoes his belt and struggles to get it around Wonwoo’s body, putting the jacket in the right position before he loops the strap into the buckle and pushes the tongue into the furthermost hole. He prays it’s enough to hold the jacket there and continue applying pressure on Wonwoo’s wound while they try to find a way out.

“Ok, I’m good.”

Hauling Wonwoo back to his feet proves to be a harder job than Mingyu originally thought. For someone who looks like they’re pretty much skin and cheekbones, Wonwoo is rather heavy. It’s a good thing that he’s almost as tall as Mingyu, though, since that means the younger doesn’t have to crouch all the way down to sling Wonwoo’s arm over his neck. He wraps his own arm around Wonwoo’s waist, supporting his stance as best as he could.

Wonwoo lets out a low groan when Mingyu tries to get him to take a step forward. 

“You’re going to die like this.” His tone is laced with disapproval and something Mingyu might call worry if he has ample time to analyse it.

“Shut up and focus on not fainting.”

They manage to turn into an alleyway, just a couple more drags of Wonwoo’s shoes against the gritty ground before they get to the spot where they parked their car, when someone steps into the light ten metres in front of them. The man grins as he spots them, teeth gleaming in premature satisfaction. Wonwoo tenses next to him, but the adrenaline rushing through Mingyu’s arteries gets him to react quickly. He lifts up the gun in his left hand and pulls the trigger, arm jerking back from the force of the shot.

For someone who has never shot a gun before, Mingyu has a pretty good aim. Maybe the years of archery he’s taken up is serving him well tonight. The man falls on first on his knees before he slumps over to the side, twisting around in pain—evidently not dead. 

“Fuck.” 

“Let’s go.” Wonwoo tugs him toward an alternative path. 

Mingyu’s amazed that he still has the power to do so with all the blood coming out of him. His jacket was a sky blue colour before this, but no one would be able to tell that if they see it wrapped around Wonwoo’s middle right now. All Mingyu can see is scarlet, and it makes him _angry._

“Maybe this is the guy who shot you.”

The tugging grows more insistent. Wonwoo manages a step away without Mingyu’s support. “You‘ve returned the hit, it’s enough.”

Mingyu eyes the man carefully, still thrashing around on the ground. Dark, thick liquid is flowing out of him. His gun, the one that might have sent the bullet into Wonwoo’s body, lies a good foot away from him. The man’s hand is outstretched toward it hopelessly. He’d never reach it. Mingyu can end him. Right here, right now. 

“I was aiming for the space between his eyes.”

“Mingyu,” Wonwoo’s voice is stern, reprimanding.

He stays rooted to his spot. 

“Min-gyu.” This time Wonwoo calls his name in drawn-out syllables, a more urgent call than the previous.

Snapping out of his trance, Mingyu quickly grabs Wonwoo’s arm again to steady him and together, they slip into the darkness.


	2. Ch. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Ah, good." He gives Wonwoo a smile. "This time you didn't try to bait me with personal information of your own."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for Chapter 2: blood, implied sexual content, mentions of past abuse and drug use.

“Why did you stop me?” Mingyu asks. They’re lying next to each other in Mingyu’s bed, the cool wind blowing the curtain from where he left the window opened halfway.

If he closes his eyes right now he can still see it vividly. Wonwoo bleeding profusely from the entry wound, the bullet lodging itself inside him stubbornly. He had kept on telling Mingyu it was fine and to keep his eyes on the road, but Mingyu had thought if he were to stop checking every now and then, Wonwoo would disappear from the back seat of his car and into thin air. 

Jisoo had someone scrub the bloodstains after, not that it’s any use. Mingyu will always remember, the images were already branded deep within his memory by the end of the night. Whenever he stepped inside the vehicle after that night, he could smell it. 

Death. 

No matter how much Jisoo insisted that he had instructed the car to be bleached down three times, he couldn’t as much as turn on the ignition on the damn thing. Mingyu ended up telling one of his men to dispose of the car to a junkyard.

When it happened, Mingyu took Wonwoo to the doctor Seungkwan told him about many moons ago, Junhui. He knows the list of people to reach in the case of an emergency off the top of his head, made an effort to memorise their addresses and numbers since the first time he got cornered by angry-looking men on his way home from soccer practice, back in his high school years when he still had some freedom to do as he wanted. 

His father’s men had shown up in time then, had taken him away from the scene before a permanent mark could be left on him, but Mingyu understood just how different the outcome would be if they were a minute late. 

If Wonwoo knew Junhui before that night, he didn’t let on. Neither did Junhui. And maybe they did know each other, Mingyu doubted that Wonwoo would trust anyone he didn’t know to patch him up. 

Junhui’s place smelled _sterile_ just like an actual hospital and Mingyu hated every minute he had to spend standing in the corner of the room, looking at Wonwoo’s figure laid weakly across a makeshift operating table. He could see the life force draining out of him and it wasn’t the first time he’s seen someone dying, though he supposed one could never get used to such a sight. 

Wonwoo didn’t die, in the end. He lost a lot of blood, though, Junhui had told him, as the bodyguard oscillated between the realms of consciousness and unconsciousness.

“He’ll be weak for some time, but he’ll make it. The bullet didn’t fragment, I pulled it out intact.”

Mingyu just nodded, his throat parched, when he looked down Wonwoo’s blood was literally on his hands. He wanted to laugh— he felt a laugh bubble from within him, because even though he wasn’t the person who pulled the trigger on Wonwoo he would be just as guilty if Wonwoo had died. And he was glad that it didn’t happen, partly for him, partly for Wonwoo.

He eventually set the laughter free when Wonwoo pried a curious, tired eye open. Bare-chested, a medical patch plastered on his lower abdomen. Streaks of dried blood on his cheeks, a rough-looking cut right above his left eyebrow from their fall that Mingyu hadn’t the time to notice before. He laughed at the absurdity of it all and Junhui threw him a side glance before he excused himself.

Wonwoo insisted on coming back to work two days after getting a bullet pulled out of him and Mingyu knew it was pointless to resist. So he spent his days inside the gates of the compound to ease Wonwoo’s responsibilities. 

When he impulsively asked Wonwoo to stay past his working hours this evening, it wasn’t a command nor an order. It was a soft request delivered almost hesitantly, yet there was no trace of doubt in Wonwoo’s answering nod. There was a warmth inside Mingyu from the agreement but he decided against overanalysing the feeling. 

“Why did you stop me?” he asks again, so lost in his thought he isn’t sure if Wonwoo’s replied to him or not. 

“Stop you from what?”

“Killing that guy.” He knows Wonwoo knows, he won’t let him slither away from this conversation by feigning ignorance. “Who shot you.”

“I could see you hit his femoral artery.” _Not from that distance and definitely not under that lighting, you did not_. “He would have bled out anyway, we needed to save bullets just in case.”

A total bullshit reason.

So Mingyu gathers his courage and calls Wonwoo out on it. “You didn’t think I could do it? Is that why? Because I could have.”

“I know,” he answers, voice uncharacteristically soft. “I didn’t want you to kill. Not for me, not the first time, if ever.”

“I didn’t think you had this much conscience.” Mingyu doesn’t present it in a mean way, he’s simply telling Wonwoo his observation. Wonwoo hums in response, though he doesn’t give much more. “I’ve walked this path long enough, I’ve done things that are just as bad. I don’t think killing will be any different. I’d feel guilty, but I’m accustomed to that.”

It’s a little sad to think that a person can be accustomed to such a sorrowful feeling. But there is no better way to describe it. Mingyu feels guilty when he sees his sister, their mother’s laugh in her voice. He feels guilty when he sees Jisoo, the way he had to stop thinking about where the money he has to count comes from if he wants to continue on surviving. With Seungcheol, his brother, the feeling is elevated to something beyond guilt, he feels utter _remorse_. 

“Was it the guilt you tried to shield me from? You know you can’t protect me from everything, despite what your job description says.”

The mattress dips when Wonwoo moves, propping himself up on his elbow to look down at Mingyu, whose eyes are still studying the cracks on the ceiling of his room. 

“If you had done it, and you felt guilt, then that’s the best-case scenario.”

Ah.

Wonwoo thought Mingyu might _like_ it. _Enjoy_ it. The way his father does. _You are your father’s son_ , he had someone say to him at a major gathering event when he was barely fifteen. They looked nothing alike then, so he didn’t know what they meant by that, why it was said with a certain tinge of wonder. He understands things a little better now. There are reflections of his father in him, just like there are reflections of his mother in Minyoung. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t escape it. 

“What about you?”

“I’m good at what I do.”

Yes, he is. There is no arguing that. Wonwoo pushed Mingyu sideways before the first shot even rang in his ears and he managed to get Mingyu leaving the scene without as much as a scratch on him, all while at the brink of death himself.

“You literally got shot,” Mingyu retorts. 

The elder plops back onto the bed with a resounding sigh. “My subject’s proven to be difficult this time.”

Mingyu doesn’t disagree with him, because yes—he admits he’s deliberately made life harder for Wonwoo because of his initial dislike toward the man. But it all ends today. Truly, it ended the day a bullet pierced Wonwoo’s skin on his behalf, but he’s swearing it now on his name. Not his family name, the one bestowed upon him by the grace of his father, but his given name, the one chosen with care by the love of his mother. 

He doesn’t like to admit it. In fact, he won't ever say it out loud, but when he saw Wonwoo bleeding out profusely on Jun’s metal table, Mingyu had felt utterly sick to the gut. He had felt more afraid than when it was _his_ forehead meeting the barrel of a gun, lifeline one finger-flick away from ending.

☆

“You were absent from your post yesterday,” is the first thing Mingyu says when Wonwoo walks through the door after finishing his morning round.

He’s stopped locking his doors some time ago. Mostly because he always drifts to dreamland while Wonwoo is still in the room with him and the older man eventually has to let himself out of the room somehow.

“And you’re up early today.”

Inaccurate statement. Mingyu hasn’t slept a wink. He’s been reading this historical fiction novel for the past seven hours and has barely made it past two chapters. The title of the book is probably the only piece of information his brain had retained: _Salt to the Sea_.

Thoughts of Wonwoo kept popping up in his head all night, driving him insane. He must have left two dozen missed calls on Wonwoo’s phone before he realised Wonwoo had left his work phone in the key bowl by the door. There was no other way for him to contact his bodyguard and it’s probably more dangerous to ask his father for Wonwoo’s personal number than let him recover from whatever it is he’s going down from. 

If Kim Jaewook catches on to his son’s growing affection for the bodyguard assigned to him, that just adds one more life Mingyu’s putting on the chopping block by mere association.

“Stop playing with me,” he roughs out.

A pair of raised eyebrows. An amused smile. 

“Here I thought we were stating our observations of each other.”

Mingyu ignores Wonwoo’s attempt at lightening up the mood. “Is it the wound?”

“No,” Wonwoo shakes his head, dark locks falling into his eyes. “It’s not. Don’t worry about it.”

“Then what happened? Were you ill?”

The older man gives him a look of consideration before he answers, “My brother graduated from university.”

He doesn’t miss the fact that it’s the first personal detail Wonwoo has ever shared with him. Wonwoo’s job description is to know everything there is to know about Mingyu and study the people around him so he can identify a threat as soon as one presents itself. Mingyu not knowing anything about Wonwoo doesn’t change anything in terms of their professional relationship—so that’s the way they’ve managed to keep it until this point. 

Or _Wonwoo’s_ managed to keep it that way, more precisely. Mingyu had attempted to get to know the other man better in the weeks following Wonwoo’s shooting, but all of his efforts go to waste. Wonwoo subtly changes the topic every single time or baits Mingyu into an argument instead.

“What’s his name?”

“It’s Seokmin.” Wonwoo places Mingyu’s coffee on his nightstand, then takes a couple of steps back, putting a respective distance between them. “He majored in Chemistry. He and his best friend, Chan, pulled themselves through college by cooking fun recreational drugs in Chan’s basement. Not that he even needed to, I make more than enough to pay his tuition.”

And Mingyu’s definitely _not_ stupid despite what people might perceive when they first see his appearance. He’s perfectly aware of the game Wonwoo is playing, he can immediately tell that this is going to be a transaction of some sort. Except these are questions he might never have any other chance to put forward, and for that, Mingyu is willing to pay a good amount of gold.

Mingyu fights the urge to ask _How much did my father pay you to take a shot for me?_ and settles with—

“Your parents?”

“Long gone.” Wonwoo’s eyebrows are drawn together. “Good riddance, they were pretty shitty.”

Closing his book and putting it on top the nightstand, Mingyu asks him, “What do you want from me?”

Wonwoo straightens his posture. “Tell me.”

Without the need of elaboration, Mingyu knows exactly what he’s referring to. He closes his eyes and wishes things aren’t so damn complicated, wishes he can give out his answers without having to think whether it would put the other party in danger to know them. Mingyu can keep on wishing until the end of time and it still won’t change anything. When he opens his eyes again, Wonwoo is still watching him. Careful and patient. 

“You know how you can be surrounded by people all the time and still feel utterly lonely?” He begins his narration, finally giving into Wonwoo’s request. “I kept trying to fill that hole in me and was unfortunate enough to stumble upon someone else’s wife.”

Wonwoo purses his lips, unyielding. “The truth this time.”

The first sentence _is_ the truth, Mingyu wants to say, but he stops himself before his mouth can betray his confidence.

“Come sit,” Mingyu pats the empty space next to him on the bed. Wonwoo hesitates for a split second but makes up his mind quickly enough.

“There were rumours of a merger between the Kim and Kwon group.”

To his credit, Wonwoo catches on immediately. “It was happening.”

“It was,” he nods in confirmation. 

The younger looks down at his bodyguard’s hands, clasped in his lap. All he sees are long, dainty fingers that provide no warning of how truly deadly they can be. A sudden urge overtakes him, making him reach out his own finger to trace random patterns on the back of Wonwoo’s hand.

“You sabotaged it.”

Mingyu caresses Wonwoo’s knuckles one by one reverently. This feels oddly intimate, but he doesn’t feel like stopping. Not even a little bit. 

“I did.”

_Continue volunteering pivotal information this freely and you might get everyone in your vicinity killed, Kim Mingyu_ , he thinks, but then Wonwoo opens his palm underneath his touch and traps one of Mingyu’s finger in when he closes it again. All those horrendous thoughts leave Mingyu’s head. How can he let his mind be ridden by thoughts of death when touching Wonwoo makes him feel so alive?

He doesn’t realise how quiet Wonwoo’s voice has grown until the next thing he says comes out as a murmur. “That’s why your father punished you.”

“Not that I mind. I quite like the so-called punishment,” he answers just as softly. His hand leaves Wonwoo’s, moving upward to now trace Wonwoo’s prominent jawline with his index finger. “He’s been useful to me.”

“Not your face,” Wonwoo says abruptly, connecting the dots. Mingyu immediately retracts his hand as if touching Wonwoo for a second longer will burn him to ashes. “Not your face, because no one could know that you weren’t acting on his behalf. If they found out he couldn’t even discipline his own son, it would’ve been over in an instant for him.”

“Correct.”

“This made it seem like it was a power play,” Wonwoo mulls over, sharing his thoughts with Mingyu. “A big middle finger in the air.”

Mingyu allows him the truth once again. “Correct.”

“But he was still upset because he _wanted_ the merger. Why?” 

“Why does a man like my father do anything?”

“Indirect control,” Wonwoo says after a short pause, “is still control.”

He’s always known Wonwoo is a smart one. His father didn’t want to take over the Kwon's territories, that much was obvious to Mingyu right off the bat. He wanted the Kwon men to keep doing their jobs and run their errands. All that would have changed with the merger is that he would start profiting off their illegal activities. More money without having to lift a finger. An alluring prospect for a greedy man whose pocket never feels full enough. 

Kim Jaewook is a known master manipulator. Kwon Senior is old. Malleable to an extent, some have said, though undoubtedly respected by those pledged to his name. The merger, had it gone through the way it was planned, would have played out in his father’s favour.

Mingyu looks at Wonwoo, the way his face is scrunched up in concentration as he rearranges in the puzzle pieces in his head, finally able to see the big picture. He hooks a finger underneath Wonwoo’s chin to angle his face up, then brushes his mouth lightly across Wonwoo’s upper lip, amazement and respect all melted into one in the simple gesture he’s showing him. Just as quickly, though, he pushes the bodyguard away by the shoulders. 

“Next time you want something from me, just tell me directly. I don’t appreciate being manipulated.”

The surprise on Wonwoo’s face seems genuine. One of the most genuine things Mingyu has ever witnessed to materialise on his face, if he’s being honest. Unfortunately, he’s not the only one who’s surprised by Mingyu’s action. Mingyu himself has no good explanation as to why he did what he did with such care and gentleness, and why his heart is aching now if he’s the one who wanted it in the first place.

“Now leave,” he turns away from Wonwoo, bringing the sheets up to cover his body all the way up to his neck. “I’m sleeping until noon.”

☆

The last time he saw Minghao, the colour of the other man’s hair is a deep, wine red. He looked so beautiful in that colour, Mingyu just had to immortalise the moment in a photograph, the final product now kept safely on the bottom of the second drawer of his dresser, next to pictures of Minyoung and his mother. It remains one of his most prized possessions. 

Now his locks are dyed black as a night without the moon nor stars, though Minghao still keeps the signature mullet groomed to a specific length. Mingyu suspects he tells the barber to measure it when he makes his cuts, but he has never dared to voice the thought out loud. The younger man is good with his hands, even more so with his nunchucks. Mingyu wants to keep his head attached to his shoulder for now, thank you very much. 

When Minghao walks into his room at wee hours in the morning, slipping into bed with Mingyu without as much as a word exchanged between them, Mingyu makes space for him and reels his lithe body in. He smells like he’s been on a plane for far too long. Perhaps, like always, Mingyu is a stop in his journey, a detour taken before heading to his final destination. There was a time when he wanted nothing more than to be the person Minghao comes home to after each one of his business trips, but they both knew it wasn’t a possibility either one of them can consider. 

It still isn’t.

Come next morning, Mingyu’s busy burying his nose into the top of Minghao’s head, inhaling the familiar scent of shampoo, when he hears a series of soft knocks on his door. Mingyu releases the younger and tells whoever is outside to come in. First Wonwoo’s head appears through the slight opening of the door, before it is followed by the rest of his body parts.

“Wonwoo, this is Xu Minghao.” Mingyu tips his head in Minghao’s direction. 

The Chinese stands up from the bed and stretches his long limbs. Only after he’s properly stretched does he make his way to Wonwoo to presumably shake his hand. 

“He’ll be staying with me for a couple of days while he’s in town.”

Before Minghao can outstretch a hand to him, Wonwoo takes it upon himself to bow a perfect form, bending from his waist with a palm flat on his stomach. A clear display of his respect.

“Shit, there is no need for that.” Minghao laughs lightly, clapping Wonwoo on the back a couple of times as the older straightens back up again. “Where did you find this goody two shoes?”

“My father assigned him to me.”

Minghao’s playful expression disappears at his words and he retracts his hand from Wonwoo’s body. At times like these, Mingyu is given a nice reminder that Minghao loves him as much as he loves the younger, although it might not be the kind of love he’s long yearned for. 

The love Minghao holds for him shows through how incredibly protective he gets over Mingyu. Minghao watches him carefully with anxiety dancing in his eyes, as letting Mingyu out of his sight for just a second will lead to a catastrophic turn of events. 

“Well, then, we’re good here, Wonwoo.” None of the jovial familiarity and ease he gave off earlier is left in his body nor his speech. “You can wait outside.”

Though it’s presented as an option, there’s no mistaking the order in Minghao’s tone. Yet, instead of following Minghao’s direction, Wonwoo looks over at Mingyu and waits for his instruction. 

“Lift up your shirt,” Mingyu asks Wonwoo. 

Minghao quirks an eyebrow at the sudden request, whereas Wonwoo starts unbuttoning his shirt without questioning Mingyu's intent. 

“That,” Mingyu points out the bandage to Minghao once Wonwoo’s exposed it, “is from taking a shot for me. I got out of the scene without a scratch.”

Minghao detects the hint of guilt that slips into his speech with ease. 

“He’ll stay,” Mingyu decides, nodding at Wonwoo who relaxes his rigid posture and offers Minghao a polite smile. 

Minghao’s eyes scan Mingyu’s face, then scan Wonwoo’s entire being from head to toe before they return to look at Mingyu once again. Mingyu notices a bit too late that Minghao has got that knowing smile on his face. The _I got you all figured out, Kim Mingyu_ face. As soon as Minghao opens his mouth, Mingyu knows whatever comes out of him will not be good. 

“Will he stay the entire day?”

He tries to pass Minghao’s proposition as something mundane and keep his expression neutral. Mingyu knows that the slightest twitching of his facial muscle can let Minghao in on the big secret: that Mingyu’s attracted to Wonwoo in at least one way, if not all the ways.

“If he wants.” He turns to Wonwoo and asks, “Do you?”

“I’m sorry,” Wonwoo apologises. “I’m not sure I—”

“We’re going to have sex,” Minghao interjects. Always unfiltered when he's with Mingyu; the way he remembers him to be, the way he likes him to be. It tells him that Minghao is comfortable enough around him to be himself. “Will you be joining us?”

Per usual, Wonwoo seems to have his expression under control. His eyes remain the same as they have always been, a shade of beautiful deep brown that Mingyu finds himself drawn to every time they make contact with his own. They have a certain pull to them— like a pair of radiant stars at the centre of a galaxy. 

“No?”

Narrowing his eyes at Wonwoo, Minghao tilts his head to the left. “Was that a question?”

“No.” Wonwoo gulps. Mingyu watches his Adam’s apple bob rather attractively, wonders how it would make him feel to bite down at the point where his clavicles meet. 

“Thank you,” Wonwoo speaks again, not forgetting his courtesies this time around, “but no.”

Mingyu grins in an attempt to bring back the playful atmosphere. “Your loss.”

“Feels like mine, though,” whines Minghao as his eyes rake up and down Wonwoo’s figure, taking in his fair proportions.

He throws a pillow at his best friend, more out of spite than jealousy. Minghao giggles as he ducks behind Wonwoo, who gets himself hit right on the face with the pillow. 

Today, at least, Mingyu thinks he might truly enjoy himself.

☆

Mingyu would rather be anywhere but where he is right now: in the middle of a busy street, navigating himself and Jisoo through a sea of people to get to Seungcheol’s favourite noodle shop. It’s not that he hates his weekly turned to monthly dinners with Seungcheol. In fact, he rather likes them.

Besides the fact that his brother more often than not sends him judgmental glares from across the table all night, Seungcheol is practically harmless at dinner. There’s just this one thing about the arrangement that annoys Mingyu to no end. His brother is older, though only by a couple of years, so he gets to choose where they eat and no one gets another say in his decision. Jisoo might, but Jisoo is too whipped for Seungcheol to go against his lover’s wishes. The last time Mingyu tried to protest, they ended up eating Thai takeaways back at the compound because Seungcheol got sulky and started playing with his knives at Mingyu’s chosen restaurant until the auntie called the authorities on them.

His anxiety level continues to spike while Jisoo remains unaware, little happy skips in his steps because he’s excited to meet Seungcheol. There are way too many people out here and Wonwoo’s only got two eyes and a pair of hands. Not to mention he’s still recovering from his injury. Jisoo brought his own men, of course, four of them, courtesy to his overprotective boyfriend.

Mingyu trusts the street food vendor better than any of these men. Whether he likes it or not, they are still first and foremost Seungcheol’s men. Which means they would let him be drained out of his blood on the side of the road before Jisoo gets as much as a paper cut on his expensive, used for money-counting fingers.

When they finally make it inside the shop, Mingyu lets go of the breath he didn’t know he was holding. Wonwoo notices him visibly relaxing, which is probably why he rests a gentle hand on Mingyu’s hip and gives him a reassuring squeeze. Their gazes meet and there’s a question in the look Wonwoo gives him.

_Okay?_

Mingyu nods.

_Okay now_. 

Seungcheol appears from the back room and Jisoo immediately throws himself at him, peppering his boyfriend’s dimpled cheeks with open-mouthed kisses. A grin blooms across Seungcheol’s face and Mingyu thinks in another life, he would make one very fine model with those distinct facial features of his. Alas, they’re currently living through this rather unfortunate version of life. 

With Jisoo’s arms wrapped around his neck, Seungcheol glances at Mingyu and Wonwoo. To no one’s surprise, he greets Wonwoo first.

“Hello, Wonwoo.”

Wonwoo curtsies to him, though his left hand remains on Mingyu’s side. “Hello, Mr Choi.”

It might be Mingyu’s imagination playing a trick on him, but he’s pretty sure that’s Wonwoo’s thumb he feels rubbing soothing circles onto his jacket, right over his hipbone. He wants to look down to confirm, but he knows if he does Seungcheol will follow his line of sight and find something there Mingyu does not want him to notice.

“Very polite,” Seungcheol notes, satisfied by Wonwoo’s gesture. “Mingyu must have nothing to do with it.”

He finally moves away from Wonwoo, taking a couple of steps toward his brother.

“Come on,” Mingyu purses his lips out to form an irresistible pout. “Twenty years later and you’re still bullying me.”

“You always have been a whiny baby,” Seungcheol comments dismissively, then he takes Jisoo’s face in his hands and licks across his boyfriend’s mouth.

Mingyu gags. There goes his appetite.

☆

Throughout the night Wonwoo remains quieter than usual, so Mingyu’s more than prepared for the questions he is sure are to come when they finally retire to his private section of the compound.

“Why does your father favour you more than your half-brother?” Wonwoo helps him out of his jacket, folds it in neat lines professionally before placing it inside the laundry basket. Mingyu pops the button of his collar and stares at him blankly. 

“Even though he doesn’t have the Kim name, Seungcheol is older than you and he isn't a bastard. He should be next in the line of succession. Instead, it’s you being groomed for the role.”

Sometimes, Wonwoo’s choice of words is so interesting it successfully captures Mingyu’s attention for longer than a moment. He talks almost like he’s reading a dictionary, but not quite. Perhaps something along the lines of a classic novel. Some rare words, unusual slangs and archaic verbs thrown into one big pot and stirred together. 

_Bastard_ , Mingyu repeats in his head, trying to remember what his linguistic tutor had tried to teach him over the years of his adolescence. _An illegitimate child_.

“Ah, good.” He gives Wonwoo a smile. “This time you didn’t try to bait me with personal information of your own.”

The bodyguard closes in on him to help Mingyu with his cufflinks. He’s staring down at Mingyu’s wrists when he speaks again, “I need to know if Seungcheol poses a threat to you.”

“And what if he does? You’ll put a bullet through his head?” Mingyu takes his hand away from his hold, irritated by the line of questioning. Every man who is alive and breathing is a threat to Mingyu, including Wonwoo himself. If the older still hasn’t understood that by now, that’s one aspect of the job he’s doing poorly in. 

Seeing how his question is met with silence, Mingyu throws out an indignant, “I don’t think so.”

“Let me do my job,” Wonwoo insists, reaching for his hand again. Mingyu’s not entirely sure whether he means helping him undress or keeping him safe. “How hard is it to answer a question?”

Wonwoo returns his attention to grasping around for the toggle of his custom-made cufflink, the big letter K painted in gold on the face. 

They say a hero’s story is often forged by a tragic past. He chuckles at the thought that crosses his mind: _so is the villain’s_. 

“My father’s first marriage was arranged. He didn’t love her, not as he loved my mother.” 

This is a story not known by many, as his father had continuously fought to keep it that way. It marked him as a man with a weakness, no matter how fleeting those initial happy years of marriage was. It showed that for once in his life, he too was capable of something that resembles love. And if he had that for his wife, the feeling might have been carried down to the children she bore him. 

Mingyu, for one, can safely attest that is _not_ the case.

“Seungcheol was a product of his first marriage. There was a man whose son my father took into his service as collateral for his debts. The son died after a couple of months, so the man took his revenge. Seungcheol’s mother got killed in that crossfire a year after his birth. My father almost lost his life, too. My mom was his nurse. They fell in love. Or so the story goes.”

He’s heard it many times coming from his mother, a bedtime story he used to beg her to tell him as she tucked him in bed every night. Even as the years passed and her stomach grew with Minyoung in it, Mingyu still wanted her to repeat the fairytale of how she had met his father. In those days, all he knew of his father was that he was all soft smiles around his mother, that he’d kiss the top of Mingyu’s head when he sent him off to school every day without fail, that he’d let Mingyu roam around the house freely as long as he promised never to enter his office. He was Mingyu’s hero. A true king, ruling his kingdom with his queen by his side, their little prince behind them, and a little princess on the way.

What he thought was a fairytale turned out to be a nightmare instead.

“My mom was… a kind woman.” If he closes his eyes he can still see her smile, warm and kind, the way her eyes crinkle around the edges. “But this way of life corrupts even the best of people. She married my father without knowing the extent of his capabilities, and when she learned of them, doing drugs was the only way she could cope. She went away slowly, painfully. I was 10.”

Minyoung was Seungcheol’s age when their mother was taken away from them. Ten-year-old Mingyu didn’t have the word _irony_ in his vocabulary just yet, much less understand what it meant. Present Mingyu does and it hurts all the bit more. 

One of the biggest regrets in his life is the fact that his sister didn’t get to know her the way he did. She didn’t get to have her mother brush her hair down, help her choose the gown for her coming-of-age party, give her advice about boys. She didn’t even have a memory of how sweet and soft she sounded speaking to her children.

Of all the things his father had done, this might be one Mingyu will never forgive him for. Taking her away from them before her natural time.

“Seungcheol takes his mother’s maiden name to honour her.” 

He’d be lying if the thought of following in his brother’s footsteps didn’t occur to him, didn’t haunt Mingyu months after the fact, but he’s always known that the repercussions of such action would not be worth the gesture he’s trying to show to a ghost. 

“He knows I’m not at fault for the way his life is turning out, but if getting rid of me is the worst possible torture he can come up with for my father, then he might kill me. I imagine it will be quick. Otherwise, no.”

Wonwoo, who has been listening to him attentively up to this point, gives Mingyu a final question. 

The worse one yet. 

“And your little sister?”

Mingyu sets his mouth to a thin line to ensure Wonwoo knows how much he disapproves of the suggestion. 

“She’s probably the reason Seungcheol has never raised a hand toward me. He won’t touch her.”

The nod Wonwoo gives him is a little regretful, rightfully so. Mingyu notices just then that while he was busy going through his story-telling, Wonwoo’s managed to undo both of his cufflinks and put them back in the dresser, even finished up unbuttoning his shirt. There’s nothing left for him to do, which is probably why he starts getting ready to exit the room.

There’s just one question Mingyu hasn’t answered yet.

“My father favours me because I have her eyes,” he speaks right as Wonwoo’s hand curls around the doorknob. Wonwoo stops mid-motion, but doesn’t turn to him. “My mother’s.” Though an elaboration is probably unnecessary, Mingyu offers one anyway. “He sees her in me, which is probably the reason why he tells me not to face him whenever he strikes me.”

It’s probably best that Wonwoo simply opens the door right after and walks out without saying another word, because before Mingyu realises what’s happening, his cheeks are already streaked with fresh tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [do yourself a favour and listen to jihoon's cover](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=18FTS5NKCSE&feature=youtu.be)


	3. Ch. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Kiss me," asks Wonwoo, husky voice laced with passion. "Please."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for Chapter 3: description of violence and past abuse, explicit sexual content.

“Wonwoo, this is Jihoon.” Mingyu gestures to the shorter man in front of him, who’d just taken the seat opposite to them.

Wonwoo nods respectfully, accordingly. Mingyu has told him earlier where they were going and what they would be doing: meeting one of his old friends for lunch and the customary catch-up of the quarter. He does this with the people higher up in his father’s chain of command to nurture a sense of camaraderie, in preparation for his inevitable takeover of the group in the future. Jihoon’s one of the few people on the list whom he sees out of preference and not under strict obligation. 

“He’s one of my father’s…” he trails off in search for a suitable word to describe Jihoon’s role, “commanders.”

Jihoon snorts. “You can say _executioner_. I won’t take any offence.”

That’s how Jihoon has always been for as long as Mingyu can remember. Crude. Brutally honest. To the point. His kills are like that, too, or so Mingyu’s heard. The fact that he’s never seen Jihoon in action is almost surprising; nevertheless, he’s sure his reputation precedes the smaller man. A bullet to the head is his normal mode of operation. No unnecessary pain. Effective and efficient. No wonder his father keeps Jihoon under watchful eyes, he wouldn’t want to lose such an important asset.

“You’re not an executioner,” Mingyu tells him, lifting his hand to signal a server over to their table. “Bourbon?”

“You know it.” Jihoon nods. He turns to address Wonwoo, “Not drinking?”

“Not on the job, no.”

“A shame. To do mine, I couldn’t possibly go without.”

“To each their own,” Wonwoo replies politely and Jihoon smiles, a barely-there quirk of his thin lips.

Mingyu tries to recall the last time he’s seen Jihoon with anything that approximates a smile on his features, but comes up empty. One of the regular servers comes over to their table and Mingyu makes the order for both he and Jihoon. The young woman eyes Jihoon for a split second before she scurries away to bring them their drinks, despite usually lingering around Mingyu for additional tips when he comes to the establishment without professional company.

“Do you two know each other?” Mingyu asks before he can help himself, his curiosity getting the better of him. 

Jihoon is the one who answers. “No.” 

Wonwoo, he notes, is averting his gaze to the other side of the room. Watching the server at the bar, who is still sneaking furtive glances in their direction. Not at all that interesting to be the subject of his attention when Mingyu is presenting him with a rather pressing question.

“Not personally.” 

“Ah.”

“It’s a small industry,” Jihoon explains further. “You’re bound to know everyone who’s someone.”

Right. Obviously Wonwoo's a _someone_. Otherwise, his father wouldn’t have entrusted Mingyu in his care.

Their drinks come and Mingyu decides to let his suspicions slide for now. Jihoon updates him on what he’s been up to, specifically the orders he had to carry out recently as damage control to Mingyu’s little act of rebellion. Mingyu apologises for the inconvenience, to which Jihoon replies it’s the most fun he’s had in a while and tells him to do it often with a teasing lilt to his tone.

When Jihoon ends their meeting by returning the camera he borrowed from Mingyu a long time ago, Wonwoo watches their exchange with keen eyes.

“What kind of camera is that?” he asks after Jihoon’s left with a humble nod to each one of them.

“Canon.”

Wonwoo huffs. “I can read,” he says, pointing at the word etched across the middle of the front display.

“AE-1’s the type.”

“Do you enjoy photography?”

The question mildly surprises him. It seems to appear out of nowhere, Wonwoo’s renewed interest in what Mingyu likes and dislikes. The answer to the question is a yes, but instead of simply vocalising that singular word and be done with it, Mingyu points to the velvet couch behind Wonwoo. These establishments he frequents tend to have similar couches in their waiting rooms, so it isn’t unusual to find one here.

“Go sit over there.” 

Without starting an argument with Mingyu, Wonwoo follows his directions. That’s a first.

“At this end,” Mingyu motions with his finger and Wonwoo obeys.

His bodyguard looks over at him expectantly, but Mingyu finds there’s still something missing. The pose is entirely too stiff. It’s as if Wonwoo’s never had his picture taken before. Maybe he hasn’t, Mingyu doesn’t know. 

“Put your arm like this.” He lifts Wonwoo’s bicep carefully and drapes it over the arm of the chair, his hand dangling toward his body. “And sit slightly to the side.” Wonwoo tries to do as he’s told, though it becomes apparent to the both of them modelling is not something he has a knack for.

Mingyu fixes his posture, brings one of his legs up with a hand on the back of his knee and crosses it over the other. He leans in and lets his fingers touch up Wonwoo’s hair, mussing it just enough to ruin the perfectly combed locks. They’re close, painfully close, close enough for Mingyu to smell the faint scent of Wonwoo’s cologne, to see the hint of freckles dotting the skin beneath his eyes.

“Like this?” 

His breath feels hot against Mingyu’s neck. 

The younger quickly leans away. Wonwoo isn’t wearing a tie today, which is good as it means there’s one less thing for Mingyu to do before he can take this damn picture Wonwoo didn’t ask for to begin with. Every second spent willingly in Wonwoo’s proximity is another step closer to his impending demise.

He takes a couple of steps back, then finds himself at a weird distance from the other man, so he adds some more distance between them before he bends down and looks at Wonwoo through the viewfinder of his camera.

The gaze Wonwoo sends him is unnerving even with the protection of him not staring at Mingyu directly.

“Look to the left.”

Wonwoo does.

“Your other left.”

Mingyu hears the click of a shutter. A final, declarative sound. A mark of permanence. Whether it comes from the camera or his heart, he can’t tell one apart from the other.

☆

“What are we doing here?” asks Wonwoo, cautiously looking around the room. He peers over Mingyu’s shoulder as the younger carefully digs through the content of Jisoo’s drawer and tries not to mess things up too much that his best friend will notice that something is amiss.

Mingyu stops searching for a moment to address the question. “We’re snooping.”

“Yes, I can see that.” The bodyguard crosses his arms in front of his chest, a clear indication of his disagreement over the matter. “But why?”

Thinking back, Mingyu probably should have briefed him on the purpose of their current mission before he dragged Wonwoo along with him. The bodyguard isn’t trying to lower his volume at all, speaking to Mingyu with his normal register, and it will get both of them caught in the act. No one knows about this—not even Jisoo—and Mingyu wants to keep it that way. 

Wait.

If he aims to be discreet about this, then why is Wonwoo here with him? He can easily run off to Mingyu’s father, his _employer_ , right after he finishes his shift this afternoon. To tattletale about what Mingyu has been doing behind his back. But somehow, Mingyu thinks he won’t do that. It’s just this feeling he has about him. He hopes he isn’t mistaken.

“I do that from time to time,” he explains, resuming his exploration. 

An old picture of Seungcheol smiling up at him makes him pause. Unframed, it’s a bit tattered around the edges. The Seungcheol in the photo is not a sight that Mingyu’s used to seeing, he can’t remember the last time he’s seen those dimples out on display. He takes a moment to appreciate it, appreciate Jisoo for being able to elicit such an expression from his brother and capture it in a photograph. 

“There’s a debt list—Jisoo has it in one of those hard drives of his. He moves the file around from time to time, as a precaution.”

“And?”

“And nothing.” Shouldn’t take a genius to figure out what Mingyu does with it. “I pay them off.”

“With…” Wonwoo trails off, coaxing the confirmation out of Mingyu.

“That’s right. Dirty money my father shoved into my pockets.” He moves on from the first drawer to the one below it after failing to find the object of importance. “His ego is so damn huge, he thinks his children have to be swimming in gold.”

Wonwoo is silent long enough for Mingyu to think that his questioning is over, but then he asks, “Anonymously?”

“What?”

Mingyu finds the drives in the last drawer. There’s three of them and he often gambles with which one to try on the laptop first. It’s probably the blue one this week.

“You pay them off anonymously?” asks Wonwoo again.

He straightens up to flash Wonwoo a winning smile, waving the drives in his hand. He rolls his eyes when Wonwoo simply raises his eyebrows—it’s his way of telling Mingyu that he wants his answer and the younger has no other choice but to give it to him.

“I write their names on an envelope and put the money inside, of course.” Hm. Should he try the black or the blue one? “How else would they be able to cross names off the list?”

As though he can read Mingyu’s question from his mind, Wonwoo’s next words offer him enlightenment. “It’s in the red one.”

Mingyu’s gaze snaps up to meet his. “How did you—”

“I saw him working on it at dinner yesterday.”

The questions do stop this time around, for Wonwoo comes to sit down in Jisoo’s chair and connects the drive to Jisoo’s laptop. Whereas Mingyu would have taken at least a couple minutes to sort through Jisoo’s purposely confusing directory, Wonwoo has the list opened on the screen in no time. He even helps take pictures of the necessary information.

Mingyu reckons that’s as good as an approval or some sort, coming from Wonwoo.

☆

“Will you teach me how to fight?”

Wonwoo looks up from his newspaper and shoots Mingyu an unamused look. “You _can_ fight. I read it in your file. You just want to know if I’m good with anything else besides my aim.”

Mingyu gets up from his seat and stretches out his long limbs. His thighs are sore for some unknown reasons and even if Wonwoo accepts his invitation to fight, he knows he’ll lose in a second. On top of that, the day’s hot, he’ll get dizzy quickly enough from either the humid air or Wonwoo’s suffocating proximity. It doesn’t help that he grows more and more conscious of the other’s presence with each passing day. 

Just yesterday, he caught himself staring at the very visible outline of Wonwoo’s dick in his cashmere pants suit for a beat too long while his bodyguard was conducting his morning briefing. Mingyu retained practically no information about his day-long schedule, despite Wonwoo going through each item on his agenda at an acceptable pace. What a relief that his bodyguard had attributed Mingyu’s lack of focus more to his sleep-deprived state rather than his sex-addled brain. The latter option would have left Mingyu exposed, vulnerable. His intentions laid bare and out in the open.

He clears his throat to get his own dick to settle down. It’s waking up just from the memory. 

“What else was in my file?”

“Your nickname,” Wonwoo answers flatly.

“Which is?”

“Gyu.” He says it like he’s testing how the word would sound if said out loud. To Mingyu, it sounds great. Good. Wonderful. Absolutely worthy of the dick-twitching episode he had just experienced. _Again_.

“Hmmm. I like that coming from you. Call me that, from now on.” God, he hopes that sounds as nonchalant as he tried to come off as. He doesn’t need Wonwoo realising he can get off just to the sound of Wonwoo calling his name over and over again. “What else?”

“List of ex-partners crazy enough to want to poison you. Had to memorise their faces and names.” 

Mingyu can’t tell whether he’s joking or not. Those damn dead eyes of him will be the cause of Mingyu’s downfall one of these days.

“So you won’t spar with me?”

Wonwoo seems to consider it for a moment, eyes raking Mingyu’s figure from the top of his head down to his toes. Mingyu can’t help but squirm a little under the intensity of his gaze. 

“It’s practically useless. You’re already as good with your hands as anyone can get with theirs and everyone uses firepower nowadays.” He stops for a moment, considering. "With the exception of your brother, I suppose, but that’s because his knives kill as quick as bullets. I'd rather teach you how to shoot properly.”

“I don’t,” Mingyu hesitates, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Gun.”

He had used one the night Wonwoo got hurt in his stead, but that was out of necessity. It was either he picked up Wonwoo’s gun or they both would have died for no reason at all beside Mingyu having the leader of one of the most notorious groups in all of Seoul as a father. It wasn’t a good enough excuse for Wonwoo to lose his life, so he threw his fears aside and curled his index finger around the trigger. 

In a casual situation, though? Firing a gun would probably make him projectile vomit.

If there’s one thing he understands completely about Seungcheol, it’s his adamant refusal to ever work with bullets. There was a day far in his youth, one he remembers so clearly though he wishes he doesn’t. A day where their father had tried to force a gun onto Seungcheol’s closed fist. Seungcheol remained true to his principles, even after Jaewook started _hitting_ him with the gun. 

Mingyu recalls how Seungcheol simply closed his eyes as the gun was lifted to his for what looked to be the last time. Blood was streaming down his face from his broken nose, staining his shirt, his pants. There was cold acceptance in his features, like he was telling himself, _you’ve done well, rest now_. Mingyu had held his breath until Jaewook eventually lowered the gun, spat on the concrete floor next to his sons, and walked out of the room.

Sometimes Mingyu wishes Seungcheol’s mom never died. Maybe his brother’s smile will be a thousand times brighter than the ones he put on in an attempt to pass off as a functional human being. Maybe Seungcheol would’ve been brought up as the crown prince to this kingdom, one his father could accept and be proud of. Sometimes Mingyu wishes his father had never met his mom, even if it means he’d never been born. 

She deserved to live more than he’d ever do.

These futile thoughts always disappear when Minyoung comes into his line of sight. Minyoung with her hair worn down, loose chestnut curls with small hairpins decorating them. Her unrestrained smile, the crinkle in her eyes that comes with it. The softness she retains even after a lifetime living in this harsh world. The sight of her is a reminder of the purpose of Mingyu’s existence: to ensure hers. 

As inevitable as it was, Mingyu’s turn came a couple of years after Seungcheol’s. This time, he was the only other person in the room beside his old man. Following in his hyung’s footsteps, Mingyu had refused the weapon that was offered to him. His father was livid, he must’ve not expected such a display of disobedience from his second son. 

The trepidation that crept up on him and seeped into his bones back then is still alive and kicking within him today. Seungcheol might have gotten off easy because he wasn’t the heir to the throne, but Mingyu wasn’t supposed to say no to his father, _ever_. It was only after he cracked four of Mingyu’s ribs and was still met with resistance that Jaewook had decided pushing him into it was more effort than it was worth. It’s the only time Mingyu won something against him— the only instance when he persevered. 

He knows Wonwoo must be able to connect the dots from the look on his face. 

“I know,” the older says gently, “but you can either refuse to have anything to do with it because in a way, it took someone you love away from you, or you can master it so it won’t ever be used against you or anyone else you care about again.”

Out of all the times Wonwoo’s managed to get a rise out of him, Mingyu hates it the most when he’s making sense. Unfortunately for him, Wonwoo makes sense most of the time. Life will be a lot easier if he doesn’t, but he does. 

He’s probably right. 

“Okay,” Mingyu says, making up his mind. He balls his trembling fingers into closed fists, solidifying his own resolve. “When are we going to do that?”

A reassuring smile from Wonwoo, then, “Today.”

“Okay.”

“And after that, we’ll spar.”

Mingyu returns his smile. 

He’s looking forward to that.

☆

“I’m going out,” Mingyu announces as he walks into the living room, which is a mistake because it gives Wonwoo time to react accordingly.

The older reaches across the counter for Mingyu’s car keys, annoyingly quick, and pockets them in his jacket. He shakes his head. 

“Not tonight.”

Finality laces his tone, causing Mingyu to finally snap. “It’s bad enough that you’re controlling every other aspect of my life, now when I want to go out to fuck, I can’t even do that?”

They’ve been on good terms for the most part, but there are still days when Mingyu wants to strangle Wonwoo and lately, he’s not entirely sure what context does he want to carry out the action in.

Wonwoo straightens his back and prepares himself for the fight that is about to commence. Tension builds up in the hard lines of his body, Mingyu can’t help but eye his biceps which are now on subtle display from beneath the fabric of his shirt. Judging from their practice sessions, he can probably take on Wonwoo in hand-to-hand combat, but it’s not a sure deal. 

“That’s all you want to go out for?” asks Wonwoo, exasperated. “Sleep with someone?”

“Yes!” Mingyu exclaims. “These blue balls are about to fall off any minute now.”

“Call Minghao,” Wonwoo tries to bargain with him.

If that was an option he could entertain at the moment, Mingyu probably would have given into Wonwoo’s suggestion. He’s said before, hasn’t he, that Wonwoo makes sense most of the time? There must be some security reasons behind Wonwoo’s refusal to let him leave the compound, but this is one of those nights Mingyu finds himself not wanting to listen to common sense. 

He just wishes to… numb it all. Sex is one of the least harmful ways he knows how to achieve that effect.

“He’s back in China for all I know. Do you really expect him to hop on the next flight out for a quick fuck with me? Be reasonable. There are much easier ways.”

Wonwoo give thought to his words, then takes a confident step forward. “You’re right.”

Mingyu just stands there like an idiot when Wonwoo proceeds to tug at the lapels of his jacket, shrugging his arms out of it.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking my clothes off,” says Wonwoo, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“What—”

Cutting him off, Wonwoo stares at him with determination in his eyes. “Isn’t this what you want? Or am I not good enough?”

Not good enough? It feels like his birthday and Christmas is happening all in one day. Mingyu’s dreamt of this, both in his sleep and while he’s wide awake, but never in a million years had he dared to think they would ever get to this point. Wonwoo is too much of a professional to let Mingyu cross that line with him and Mingyu, not wanting to face rejection, decides to ignore the voice in his head every time it suggested him to try. 

But in his imagination, Mingyu always sees himself as the prepared one. The one who has it all figured out, the one who would sweep Wonwoo off his feet with his disarming smiles and sweet charms. This scene, the one unfolding in front of him right at this very moment, has their roles reversed. 

There’s a hidden door in the brick castle Mingyu’s built around himself for his protection, and Jeon Wonwoo’s managed to find it. He’s knocking on said door right now, asking for permission to enter.

“I-I,” Mingyu falters, backing away from the older man. “You’re something else, Jeon Wonwoo.”

Wonwoo shrugs his shoulders. “I’m your bodyguard.” He says blankly, as if that’s supposed to explain his odd behaviour. “My duty is to protect you from any possible harm that might come to you by any means necessary.”

His words click. Ah. Of course, this happiness doesn’t last long. Good things in Kim Mingyu’s life are always ephemeral. Wonwoo is evidently not doing this out of the desire to be with Mingyu. He doesn’t ache, doesn’t _crave_ for Mingyu the way he’s craved for him for so long. Wonwoo is doing this because it’s the logical thing to do. Mingyu wants to go out to look for something he can’t find in the comfort of his own home, so Wonwoo’s delivering the goods to him to keep him under this roof. 

By any means necessary, right?

The fall from euphoria hurts a lot more than Mingyu anticipated.

“You’re going to fuck me as a part of your job, is that it?” He can’t help the bitterness that drips all over his question. “All because you deem it safer for me to stay inside tonight?”

Wonwoo gives him a considering look, then, “Tell me you’re retiring early.”

Mingyu stares at him, bewildered. “What?”

“Just tell me.”

There’s a small part of him that just wants to see where Wonwoo is leading with this, so Mingyu does as he’s told.

“Wonwoo, I’m retiring early.”

In response, Wonwoo tugs his tie until it’s completely off and tosses it aside carelessly. “There. I’m off the clock.”

Holy shit. This whole thing is so surreal to Mingyu.

“And _now_ you’re gonna fuck me?”

That’s incredulous.

“Sure, if that’s what you want. I’d honestly rather _you_ fuck _me_ ,” Wonwoo says nonchalantly, as if he’s not flipping Mingyu’s entire world upside down, “but either way, yes.” He finishes unbuttoning his shirt, then discards it carelessly to the floor and looks up at Mingyu with his chin raised.

Defiant.

Mingyu eyes Wonwoo’s lower abdomen, gaze finally settling on the wound created by the bullet that had lodged itself inside him, now free of a patch or gauze. It hits him again. Wonwoo was shot. He was dying— he was going to die in Mingyu’s arms, then in the back of his car, then on Junhui’s operation table. All because he was set on protecting Mingyu. 

And now this, too. Wonwoo is offering his body up for use because he desperately wants to keep Mingyu safe. 

“Did Junhui say you can exert yourself physically?”

He’s not going to ask more of Wonwoo than what the man’s already given him. It’s already too much as it is and Mingyu doesn’t even deserve half of it. Maybe not even a quarter.

“Do you think this is the first time I’ve been shot?” the bodyguard retorts sharply. “It’s been more than eight weeks, sex is back on the table.”

“Put your shirt back on.” Mingyu wrenches his gaze away from the wound to look Wonwoo straight in the eyes. “I’ll stay in, but I’m not having sex with you. Not out of logic, not if you wouldn’t have wanted this otherwise. I’m not into that.”

The Wonwoo he’s gotten used to and even grown fond of would have followed his order without a question. But that Wonwoo is Mingyu’s employee, and the Wonwoo standing in front of him right now is, for the moment, not bound to him by the means of a professional contract. The other man ignores Mingyu’s command and quirks at eyebrow at him as though he knows more than Mingyu does.

Again, annoying. 

Mingyu almost takes another step back when instead of putting his shirt back on, Wonwoo inches closer to him, excruciatingly slow. Then, the other man reaches for his hand and Mingyu allows him to, which proves to be yet another mistake. Why does he seem to make so many of those around Wonwoo? 

The next thing Wonwoo does is guide Mingyu’s hand to the fold between his hip and right leg before he shifts it slightly to the side, resting it on his groin. The hardness Mingyu finds there sends a jolt of electricity up his forearm and brings the blood rushing straight to his own cock.

“If I didn’t want this, I wouldn’t have offered,” he says, tone now gentle. He’s trying to offer Mingyu reassurance, he realises. “I would have shot you as you try to escape.”

“You’re still on that?” Mingyu grumbles, but he begins to palm Wonwoo’s clothed dick through the fabric of his pants. 

The bodyguard’s expression flickers. 

“Not in the kitchen. I cook here,” decides Mingyu in a heartbeat.

This is a mistake, but maybe it’s one worth making if he gets to hear Wonwoo’s mirthful laughter in return.

Wonwoo’s hand slides down from his wrist until their fingers are laced together. They continue to hold hands as Wonwoo navigates them both toward Mingyu’s room, not even bothering to pick up the pieces of clothing he’d scattered all over the kitchen floor. Mingyu’s brain is still trying to catch up with reality, has barely given enough time to do so when Wonwoo swings his bedroom door open and practically throws Mingyu onto the bed with a strength that seems to come out of nowhere.

Mingyu is practically defenceless when Wonwoo climbs on top of him, still clothed from the waist down, and looks down at his mouth expectantly.

He does nothing. He’s absolutely terrified that the moment he makes a move, he’ll wake up and finds that the past five minutes has been nothing but a good dream.

“I thought you were in a rush, Gyu.”

Wonwoo gulps, the downward bob of his Adam’s apple so attractive that Mingyu wonders if he’ll let him bite there… and also all over. 

“Kiss me,” asks Wonwoo, husky voice laced with passion. “Please.”

If Mingyu had felt impatient before, that feeling is no longer relevant to the current situation. There are so many things he is unsure about right now, but he knows that he wants _this_ —whatever this is—to last as long as possible. He lifts a hand to gingerly frame Wonwoo’s jaw, tilting the older’s face down to meet his own. Wonwoo promptly leans into the touch, the response giving Mingyu the courage to finally press his lips to Wonwoo’s.

Soft. 

There’s all there is, everywhere they touch. Softness.

He pulls away after a moment, overwhelmed by the subtle intensity of the contact. By Wonwoo’s hot breath against his cheek, by the fingers curled carefully on his nape, by the chocolate eyes that are searching his face. Whatever Wonwoo finds only encourages him to go further, because he prods Mingyu’s lips apart with a careful thumb and licks the tip of Mingyu’s tongue with his own.

The realisation washes over him like a stream of cold water: Wonwoo is teasing him.

Mingyu’s about to lose his damn sanity over their current predicament and this man is teasing him.

He knows how dangerous the game they are playing is. One step in the wrong direction and the scale will tip— Mingyu doesn’t know in whose favour. But Wonwoo is kissing him properly now, taking Mingyu’s bottom lip in between his rows of perfect teeth and pulling back, arms coming up to circle around Mingyu’s neck. Wonwoo moves closer and closer until their chests are pressed flush against each other, and Mingyu makes up his mind. 

He’ll throw the game now and deal about the consequences later. 

With his hands playing support beneath Wonwoo’s thighs, Mingyu manoeuvres Wonwoo from his position on his lap until the older man’s lying on his back, head propped safely on Mingyu’s pillow. Wonwoo just looks up at him with stars in his eyes, hands outreached toward Mingyu. Mingyu, who finds himself unable to resist moving right into his embrace, immediately slotting their mouths together once again.

They kiss slow, none of Mingyu’s impulsiveness and Wonwoo’s usual vigour thrown into the act. The room is silent save for the sounds their mouths are making, and silence means there’s room for Mingyu to think. For his comment earlier about Mingyu’s impatience, Wonwoo seems to have no protest over the leisurely pace they’ve established.

When Wonwoo’s thumb caresses the skin right beneath his ear, Mingyu can’t recall the last time he was this intimate with a lover. As far as he can remember and bother to acknowledge, there’s only ever been Minghao. Even then, it’s been a couple of years since they last loved each other in a way that would lead them to kiss like this. Kiss for the mere purpose of kissing, kiss just so that they can be in each other’s space. Kiss because they can, kiss because they want nothing more than to have their lips moulded together.

Wonwoo’s fingers eventually weave themselves into his hair, tugging slightly. Mingyu releases the older’s mouth—now cherry-red and kiss-swollen—to give him some time to regain function of his nose. He drags kisses down Wonwoo’s neck and skims his teeth across the other’s collarbone. The small noises Wonwoo makes, the _ahh’s_ and the _yes’s_ and the _mmhm, gyu’s,_ they all sound like heaven’s bell ringing in his ears. They get him brave, so Mingyu goes further down Wonwoo’s body, leaving a wet trail wherever his mouth lands on Wonwoo’s lighter skin.

He stops when he gets to Wonwoo’s stomach. Wonwoo seems to notice his hesitation, though he doesn’t say a word to break the silence. Instead, he runs his fingers up and down Mingyu’s forearm, the absentminded motion soothing the younger effortlessly.

Mingyu leans down to mouth at the fading wound, the dissolvable stitches Junhui used have almost completely disappeared. He blows his warm breath over the definite proof of Wonwoo’s dedication to his duty. If he’s lucky, he’ll find someone who is as devoted to him as Wonwoo is to his job. Slim chance to none, but surely a man is allowed to hope. 

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” he kisses Wonwoo’s hipbones gently, avoiding the wound but remaining close to it.

“Trust me, I know,” comes the answer from above his head.

Looking up at Wonwoo then, it finally sinks in him that they’re really doing this. It’s _happening_. So, he asks Wonwoo the most important question before he can proceed, “Safeword?”

Wonwoo blinks at him, the movement of his eyelids sluggish.

“Huh?”

Mingyu smiles and repeats the question. “What’s your safeword, Mr. Jeon?”

“I… never needed one before?” Wonwoo tells him, unsure.

The younger leans back on the bed until he’s sitting on his heels, no longer touching Wonwoo in any kind of way.

“Well, no safe word, no sex.”

Words are just that, words. Wonwoo can say _I’m off the clock now, so I’m jumping your dick as a free man and not a subordinate_ , but it won’t sit right with Mingyu until Wonwoo is perfectly aware that what they’re doing right now is not part of his obligations. He can change his mind at whichever point he wishes to. 

Mingyu has been wanting to do this for a long time now, but he’d rather not do it at all than do it the wrong way.

“Okay, uh, uhm.” Wonwoo racks his brain. Searching, searching, searching, before he finally settles with an uncertain, “Banana?”

Mingyu stares at him blankly. He would have laughed by the absurdity of the choice, except Wonwoo is lying on _his_ bed, _bare-chested_ , ready to have sex with _him_. It is certainly not a situation that grants laughter by any means.

“You couldn’t have picked a non-phallic shaped object?”

Eh. He’ll take it. He’s about to resume his work on Wonwoo’s zipper when the older man stops him with a hand around his wrist. 

Mingyu glances up at the older man. “Is the banana ripe already?”

“No,” Wonwoo shakes his head, eyes gentle and Mingyu dares say this, _alive_. “What’s yours?”

“Wh-what?” 

It seems that Wonwoo’s intent on surprising him over and over again throughout the night. 

“Your safeword,” Wonwoo reiterates patiently. “What is it?”

“I don’t need one.”

“ _‘Well, no safe word, no sex.’_ ” He’s mimicking Mingyu with an exaggerated pout that just makes Mingyu want to kiss him senseless. Before he gets the chance, Wonwoo puts on a fond look and lets him know, “I want you to feel safe, too.”

Well, fuck Mingyu and all his effort at maintaining self-control, then. He looks at Wonwoo in disbelief, incredulity and reverence all mixed up together. No amount of safety net Wonwoo can provide him will make him feel safer than the words he just heard coming from the other’s mouth. 

“It can be related to a phallic-shaped object,” Wonwoo coaxes him, so gentle that it aches something inside Mingyu, tugs at his heartstrings. “I don’t mind.”

“Andromeda,” Mingyu says instead. 

“The princess?”

Chained to a rock, destined to die. Helpless, but never spiritless. Not for a second. Mingyu embraces the resemblance between them. He recalls the uplifting fact that before her story ended, Andromeda managed to arrive at her happy ending. She got to live her happily ever after with the man who rescued her, the man whom she grew to love as time passed. It’s a myth, an impossible fantasy, but before tonight, Mingyu also thought having Wonwoo succumb to him is impossible.

“Yes.”

“Okay,” says Wonwoo, then he helps Mingyu takes his pants all the way off.

Mingyu tugs at his shirt until it’s no longer tucked perfectly into his pants and starts undoing his buttons while Wonwoo takes the last articles of clothing on him off his body. There are battle scars here and there, souvenirs from his time in other people’s service, and Mingyu can’t help but grow conscious of his own markings. The difference is: Wonwoo’s are left by his enemies and Mingyu’s by his own flesh and blood. The man who gave him life at the beginning is also the very man who sucks it out of him for all the days that follow. 

Oh, fate sure likes to fiddle with irony. 

Wonwoo wastes no time undressing, because Mingyu blinks once and suddenly he’s fully naked in front of him, shifting around on the bed to get himself comfortable. His cock, as pretty as the rest of his features are, curves delicately against his defined abdomen, wordlessly begging for Mingyu to take it into his mouth. There’s a dribble of precum already dripping onto his stomach, the sight of which makes Mingyu’s throat go dry. Wonwoo’s body is showing him exactly how much he wants this and it helps Mingyu to believe in his words. 

He tears off his belt and rids himself of his pants. Without having to look down, Mingyu can feel himself tenting in his underwear. Wonwoo’s knowing smirk when his eyes land at Mingyu’s crotch confirms his guess.

“How do you want me?” Wonwoo asks in a sultry voice that sends a shiver down Mingyu’s spine.

“Exactly like this,” he tells Wonwoo, then he puts his hands in between Wonwoo’s legs and spreads them apart.

Mingyu dips down on the bed until he’s lying on his stomach. He rests his head on Wonwoo’s upper thigh, blunt nails raking down the side and eliciting a low moan from the older. Mingyu kisses his crotch once before he moves on the base of his dick. Just close-mouthed kisses, delicate acts of tender loving care. 

Wonwoo makes this impatient noise from above him and Mingyu grins against his cock, drags his bottom lip along his shaft. All the way up, until he can taste the slight tang from Wonwoo’s precum over his tongue. Mingyu kisses him there, right beneath the head of his cock, a second before he takes Wonwoo into his mouth. The older bucks his hips up instantly, sending almost his entire length right down Mingyu’s throat and Mingyu’s glad he learned how to do this early on in his life, otherwise he would have choked embarrassingly.

He swirls his tongue around Wonwoo’s circumference as he bobs his head down, then flattens it over his slit when he goes back up to the head, all the while noting that on top of all the good things Wonwoo excels at, he’s also gifted in his proportions. How unfair. 

The longer he goes on, the more restless Wonwoo becomes. Mingyu’s hands practically become useless in holding him down, so he pulls away with a resounding _pop_ and gives Wonwoo a stern warning.

“If you can’t stay still, I won’t let you come.”

“I don’t want to come,” Wonwoo throws back at him, making Mingyu raise both eyebrows. 

What’s the point of them having sex if Wonwoo doesn’t want that?

Wonwoo reads the question from his face. “I don’t want to come like this,” he clarifies quickly. “I want you inside me when I do.” Then there’s doubt painted across his features, like he thinks he shouldn’t have requested such a thing from Mingyu.

To ease his distress, Mingyu quickly tells him, “I can do that.”

He crawls over Wonwoo’s body to reach his bedside drawer, tossing a box of condoms over his shoulders, followed by a small bottle of lube previously meant for personal use. Mingyu hasn’t invited people to his room for the purpose of having intercourse since before Wonwoo came to his service, so his lube usually comes in packets and not bottles. Minghao is a special case, of course, but he brought his own supplies the last time it came down to this.

_Enough about Minghao_ , Mingyu commands his brain. No more. 

Wonwoo giggles when the box of condom lands on his torso and Mingyu feels his heart stop inside his ribs. He turns to face Wonwoo, whose features have morphed from the previous state of uncertainty into one of exhilaration. Mingyu is taken by surprise at how beautiful one can look when they stop holding themselves back. Wonwoo, in particular, is a sight to remember. 

“Do you think these will fit me?” asks Wonwoo, smiling down at his sternum.

Not understanding the meaning of his question, Mingyu cants his head to the right. 

“For round two, I mean.”

_For round two_. 

Oh.

Ohhhh.

Oh, fuck. 

The older flips the box in the air before capturing it between his index and middle fingers. 

“Only if you want to, of course.” He bites his lips and bats his long lashes. It’s a warm suggestion, Mingyu knows it is, but Wonwoo’s confidence in his answer being yes is rather evident.

“I want to. Holy shit, Wonwoo. Fucking hell. Fuck me.”

Wonwoo laughs, the sound light. “One at a time,” he says.

“Yeah. You first.”

He laughs again and Mingyu can’t exactly blame him. It’s ridiculous how he seems unable to form full sentences just because Wonwoo puts the thought of him fucking into Mingyu in the younger’s head. As Mingyu struggles to gather the remainder of his sanity—what little is left of it, anyway—Wonwoo takes his hand and squirts a glob of lube onto his fingers. 

The coldness he feels pulls him back into the moment. With the hand that’s not currently dripping with liquid, Mingyu tucks a finger beneath Wonwoo’s chin and guide his mouth to meet his own, their tongue caressing each other’s. He keeps on kissing him, body above Wonwoo’s, while other hand travels south until it reaches the final destination. Mingyu rubs around the perimeter of his entrance to let Wonwoo know he’s there before pushing his index finger in.

Wonwoo gasps and pulls away from him, causing Mingyu to still his finger inside. The lines on Wonwoo’s forehead appear and Mingyu almost asks for an update on the banana’s condition when Wonwoo suddenly arches off the bed to kiss him again, relaxing against Mingyu.

Mingyu smiles against Wonwoo’s lips before he releases them, moving to kiss his neck while his finger continues sliding in and out of Wonwoo, stretching him open. 

"You can add another,” Wonwoo says quietly, just as Mingyu bites at his clavicles.

And so Mingyu does exactly that. 

He’s teasing Wonwoo’s nipple with his mouth when the older man’s body suddenly jerks beneath him. Mingyu looks up to find Wonwoo with his eyes closed, bottom lip gnawed in between his teeth as a show of his restraint. Experimentally, he moves his fingers the exact same way he did just before and Wonwoo’s body jerks again. His cock throbs so hard between them, there’s a copious amount of precum leaking around the head.

“I’m guessing…”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo pants, hot and heavy. It ignites Mingyu’s own desires, watching him inch closer to the edge like this. “Congratulations, you found the buried treasure.”

Bingo. 

“I’ll remember that.”

Yep. Still no more than three consecutive words in Mingyu’s sentences. They’re not even at the main act of the play yet and already Wonwoo’s rendered him useless and practically speechless.

“I’m good to go if you are,” says Wonwoo, looking down at Mingyu in a reassuring way.

“Yeah?”

As an answer, Wonwoo grabs the box of condom and takes a packet out gingerly, squinting at it. Mingyu realises, a second too late, that he’s checking for the expiration date. It’s both endearing _and_ insulting at the same time because seriously—Mingyu’s not that negligent nor does he often go so long without sex that he’d have so many left in a box past their date of use. He’s about to voice his protest despite the possibility of failing miserably and fumbling with his words, but Wonwoo tears open the packaging with his steady fingers and all of Mingyu’s thoughts come to a halt. 

Wonwoo looks at him expectantly once he manages to extricate the condom out of the packet.

Mingyu understands his wordless request. He moves up the bed just enough for Wonwoo to reach down and roll the condom onto him, then he’s kissing Wonwoo again with renewed vigour. He’s kissing him so hard he’s sure it will bruise, but Wonwoo presses back into him just as eagerly and Mingyu thinks that means he doesn’t mind a little roughness along the way. 

He pulls away to rest their foreheads together and asks, “Is it okay like this?”

Nodding, Wonwoo smoothens his palms over Mingyu’s broad shoulders and pecks him on the lips once. Then, his hand, adventurous and naughty as ever, travels down the ridges of Mingyu’s spine, causing him to shiver. Mingyu knows he can feel the slight bumps on his skin where his father’s belt made its mark over and over again through the years. But Wonwoo doesn’t flinch, he doesn’t even blink, and he keeps his eyes wide open as his hand goes from Mingyu’s back to his front.

Wonwoo’s the one who carefully guides Mingyu’s cock to settle between his ass cheeks. Wonwoo’s the one who hooks his ankle behind Mingyu’s knees to get to move him forward. Wonwoo’s the one who curls his hand around Mingyu’s shaft and pushes down on him as he takes Mingyu slowly inch by inch, his incredible warmth engulfing Mingyu’s length.

“Fuuuuck,” Wonwoo gives a long exhale when Mingyu finally bottoms out inside him.

It takes Mingyu a long moment before he can move, even though Wonwoo continuously peppers his face with comforting kisses like Mingyu’s the one about to get wrecked. Once he does, though, he doesn’t feel like stopping. Wonwoo takes him so well, sweet nothings whispered in his ears in tandem with the rolls of Mingyu’s hips. He’s tight, and wet, and hot—both his mouth and his insides. Wonwoo moves to touch himself and Mingyu has half the consciousness to catch on with what he’s trying to do.

“Let me,” he puffs against Wonwoo’s cheek, yearning to pleasure him in all ways possible. “Let me.”

“Okay,” says Wonwoo, surprisingly gentle. 

Mingyu places one hand next to Wonwoo’s head to prop himself up, then wraps the other around Wonwoo’s hardness. Mingyu’s strokes are languid at the start before they grow more spirited as he picks up his pace, wanting to deliver Wonwoo to his first orgasm of the night even if it means losing his grip on reality. The sound of skin meeting skin—Mingyu’s thighs slapping against Wonwoo’s ass—resonates across the room, successful in driving him crazy.

“Gyu,” Wonwoo rasps as his climax nears. “Mingyu. Min-gyu— _ah_.”

“Yes?”

“'m not going to break if you go ha—” Mingyu pulls back until he’s almost all the way out before he slams his way back into Wonwoo without a warning. “Oh, _fuck_.”

The older turns his head to the side, burying his face into the pillow, the pillowcase taken into his mouth in his attempt to suppress the obscene noises coming out of him. Wonwoo’s breathing stutters and Mingyu sees the finish line they’re about to cross together in his periphery. A few more effectively angled thrusts, that’s all it takes for them to come in unison. 

Wonwoo comes with a muffled groan and Mingyu with a litany of curses, “Fuck, fuck. Holy fucking—”

A pair of warm hands grab his face and a pair of equally warm lips kisses him, swallowing all of his words as they try to come out of his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you're thinking: did she just make a safeword the title of her fic? the answer's yes. am I sorry? a little.......
> 
> [for reference, the picture mg took of ww](https://twitter.com/_bloominsummer/status/1241043765164294144?s=20)
> 
> also please, i beg, come [cry](https://twitter.com/_bloominsummer) about fallin' flower with me


	4. Ch. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **He's safe now.**
> 
> Yeah, with Wonwoo around, Mingyu does feel that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for Chapter 4: mentions of death, mild violence, explicit sexual content.
> 
> also: enter Jeonghan. :-)

“Wonwoo, wear your best suit today,” Mingyu says as Wonwoo walks into the room with his morning coffee in hand.

After placing Mingyu’s coffee on top of his bedside drawer, Wonwoo looks down at his attire, his brows furrowed. The three-piece he’s wearing today is an elegant navy blue colour, complete with silver cufflinks. He does look good in it, there’s no doubt about that.

“This is my best suit.”

Mingyu rises from the bed and pats Wonwoo’s chest once, pretending to empathise with him. He’s not gravely mistaken, it’s definitely one of his better attire, but Mingyu wants nothing but the absolute best to be worn by him when they go to their special destination for the day. Wonwoo’s going to meet one of the most important people in Mingyu’s life for the first time, he needs to be more than just presentable.

“Then we’ll have to stop for a new one on the way.”

“On the way to where?”

“To meet my best woman,” he says, and finds it surprising that the bitterness that usually accompanies him at this time of the year fails to show up in his words. “Don’t worry, you can drive so you’ll know I’m not driving us to the desert to die.”

Though he doesn’t question who this _woman_ might be, Wonwoo does frown at Mingyu’s figure of speech. 

“There are no deserts around here,” he points out.

“Forests, then,” he indulges Wonwoo. “Mountains.”

Before Wonwoo has the chance to reply, Mingyu takes his cup of coffee outside, barely surprised when he finds Minyoung at the dining table with a bowl of cereal in front of her. She’s scrolling through her phone, which Mingyu often scolds her for as she seems to be unable to go without checking it first thing in the morning, but for today he decides to cut her some slack.

“What time are we leaving?” she asks him, not bothering to look up from her phone. 

Wonwoo appears behind him and immediately makes the beeline for the door, presumably setting up the transportation detail for their trip later. Mingyu lets his eyes follow Wonwoo’s figure even after he’s completely disappeared from sight.

“Give me an hour or so.”

At that, she finally takes her eyes off the screen, only long enough to watch Mingyu as she delivers another question to him. “Is your bodyguard coming?”

“It’s for your protection, too.”

Minyoung shrugs, her hair swaying around her back as she does so. “Alright, but he needs to wear something better.”

He finds himself unable to hold back a smile, because the simplest, smallest thing such as this really reminds him of how strong their bond is as siblings. 

“That’s exactly what I said.”

Minyoung grins back at him before she returns her attention back to her phone, scooping a spoonful of corn flakes into her mouth.

☆

Staying true to his words, Mingyu leaves the compound with Minyoung latching onto his arms an hour later. Wonwoo leads the way to the SUV they’re taking for the day. 

Mingyu takes the passenger seat by nature, while Minyoung sits in the back and somehow still manages to connect her phone to the audio system faster than Mingyu can pull out his phone. He just shakes his head and lets whatever idol songs she’s into at the moment play as they drive through the city.

Wonwoo talks very little when he drives, he’d rather pay all of his attention to the road. So responsible at the smallest of tasks, befitting to the rest of his characteristics. Mingyu’s put their first destination on the navigation system, so there isn’t much conversation to be had. Besides, Minyoung’s belting tunes on the top of her lungs, and Mingyu doesn’t have the heart to stop her. 

They get into a small argument at the tailor because Mingyu finds something perfect for Wonwoo to wear and the older insists that it’s way too expensive for him. 

“But it’s red, velvet, and gorgeous. And it’s in your size!” Mingyu points out.

The piece even gets Minyoung’s seal of approval at first glance. Wonwoo still refuses to purchase it, grows more adamant on saying no when Mingyu offers to buy it for him. Frustrated, Mingyu paces back and forth inside the store while Wonwoo just waits for him to calm down with his arms crossed over his chest.

Then, Minyoung appears out of nowhere and pulls at the sleeve of the suit until a thread comes loose from it, much to Mingyu’s horror and Wonwoo’s shock. 

“Don’t worry. I paid for it with Mingyu-oppa’s card at the front.” Minyoung makes a swiping gesture with her hand, then she takes the hanger off from the display rack. “But since I ruined the item, we can’t refund it, so you might as well wear it and we can go on our merry way.” 

_This little devil_ , the flash in Wonwoo’s eyes seems to say. She merely raises her eyebrows at him as if to ask, _what do you say?_ and Wonwoo’s resistance crumbles.

He takes the suit from Minyoung begrudgingly and walks to the dressing room. Mingyu gives his little sister a high-five, a proud pat to the head for her quick thinking, and a hug, all in that precise order. When Wonwoo emerges out of the room in the attire, Mingyu makes a mental note to upgrade Minyoung’s phone to whatever latest model there is because she deserves at least that much gratitude for her excellent customer service today.

When they get back to the car, there’s a moment of quiet after Mingyu puts in their next stop in the navigation system. Minyoung seems to wait for Wonwoo to respond as _Seoul Memorial Park_ flashes up on the screen, right above the little car icon. 

Wonwoo clears his throat, not as awkward as it is careful, and his fingers touch the back of Mingyu’s hand for a fleeting moment before he puts the gear into drive.

He doesn’t know if Minyoung sees it, but she plays her song right after the moment passes and Wonwoo’s foot presses down on the gas. 

They arrive at the scene and get down from the car without uttering a single word. Normally, complete silence will drive Mingyu to insanity, but today it gives him a sense of peace. Minyoung walks in front of them, leading the way like she’s always done the previous years. Sometimes, Jisoo will come to pay his respects with them, but lately, he’s been more absent than not and Mingyu really needs to catch up with him soon.

As soon as they’re right by the entrance, Wonwoo tells him to go ahead and that he’ll be with them in a moment. Mingyu thinks nothing of it, he’s probably allowing the siblings a private moment, deeming it safe enough for him to separate from them just for a little while. 

After nodding his agreement, Mingyu follows Minyoung inside. He finds his sister standing in front of the plaque that has their mother’s name written on it, along with dates of her birth and death and the people she had left behind: a husband and two children. 

Her fingers trace over the golden dents on the stone where their father’s name is written, then they curl into a fist against it. Mingyu gently takes her hand away and clasps it in between his.

“Shall we pray?”

Minyoung nods and closes her eyes, mouth moving as she says her words of orison without making any sound. Mingyu watches her, takes comfort in the strength of her faith, and closes his eyes, too. He holds Minyoung’s hand tighter in his as he lets his thoughts flow out of him freely. In his prayers, he communicates with his mother and tells her what’s been going on in his life since the last time he came for a visit. 

Truthfully, he doesn’t have much update for her this time around. They mostly revolve around Wonwoo, since the last time he was here was a couple of days before he went on his infamous suicide mission of seducing the Kwon group’s mistress. He’d like to think that his mother wouldn’t have minded the fact that Mingyu likes his men the way he likes his women: strong and a bit mouthy. He likes to think that she’d even approve of his choices. 

He and Minyoung finish their prayers at the same time, disentangling from each other to clean the bit of dust around her plaque before nodding to each other. Their duties are finished. Minyoung brings her index and middle fingers to her lips, then presses it against the stone of the plaque, kissing their mother goodbye. Mingyu does the same.

When he turns around, he bumps straight into Minyoung. 

He’s about to ask her why she’d stopped before he realises she’s looking at something in front of her that had her reacting in such way. Mingyu follows her line of vision and finds Wonwoo standing by the corner, looking truly awkward this time, a small bouquet of white flowers almost entirely crushed in his death grip. He feels his chest tightening at the sight.

“Would it be okay for me to pay my respects?”

Minyoung glances up at Mingyu quickly before she looks at Wonwoo again and nods her permission away, walking past him to wait for them by the entrance.

“Is that okay with you?” Wonwoo asks again, making Mingyu realise he hasn’t actually vocalised his agreement.

“Yeah,” Mingyu hears himself speak, surprised at how stable his voice is. “Come. I’ll introduce you.”

Wonwoo walks to him, hesitant in his steps, then stops right in front of Mingyu. “Mom, Wonwoo. Wonwoo, my mother.”

The bodyguard places the bouquet on the little slope next to her square and closes his eyes to let the words he needs to say to her travel across the small space between them. Mingyu rests his hand on the small of Wonwoo’s back, feeling lightheaded all of the sudden and needing to touch the other man to ground himself. 

Wonwoo finishes his prayer quicker than Mingyu had, then he straightens his back and reaches out a hand to cup Mingyu’s face.

This gesture, entirely compassionate in its intention, sends a tingling sensation down Mingyu’s spine. They don’t get these kinds of moments when Wonwoo’s on duty, when Wonwoo is acting as his employee and nothing more. They don’t get these kinds of moments simply because Wonwoo never lets his guard down for long enough for it to happen. 

But today, with his hand gentle on Mingyu’s face, Mingyu lifts up his own to slip his fingers between Wonwoo’s and squeezes once before he drops them both back to their respective sides.

“No need to feel guilty that you ratted me out for being a constant pain in the ass,” he jokes lightly, shaking off the intimate atmosphere. “I probably deserve that.”

Wonwoo is walking away from him as gives Mingyu a reply, but his answer still rings loud and clear in the younger’s ears. “I told her not to worry anymore because her son grew up well and he’s safe now.” 

_He’s safe now._

Yeah. With Wonwoo around, Mingyu does feel that way.

☆

When Jisoo invited him out for lunch, Mingyu thought they’d be heading off to their favourite ramen shop at the marketplace, but Jisoo missed the turn, then he missed the alternative turn. On top of that, he ignored all of Mingyu’s incessant, “Where are we going?”, only glancing back every now and then to make sure he was still following him.

Wonwoo trailed behind them wordlessly.

Mingyu’s almost out of breath when Jisoo finally pushes open the door to a small cafe and says, “Here.”

_Coup d’état cafe_ , the sign above the door reads. To his recollection, he’s never been here before. From the way Wonwoo is absorbing details of his surroundings, mapping out possible escape routes with his quick eyes, he’d say Wonwoo hasn’t been here before either. 

There are days when Jisoo feels spontaneous, though, so Mingyu doesn’t think much of it as his best friend greets the barista, exchanging small pleasantries before placing their order. He doesn’t think much of it as Jisoo chooses a table out on the balcony, where the sunlight hits them harshly and the hot wind does nothing to alleviate the stinging. He doesn’t think _anything_ of it, until Jisoo finishes his croissant and places his knife and fork on the plate, 10 and 4 in direction, then leans in close to him.

“Across the street, inside the gallery, there’s a man with platinum blond hair braided to his side.” 

Mingyu's eyes scan the building Jisoo refers to and finds the man in question with ease. Even from afar, he can tell that the man is beautiful, with angelic qualities emanating from his being. He’s busy gesturing at a certain painting, talking animatedly with a middle-aged woman next to him.

“Who is he?”

“His name is Jeonghan.” A beat. “He’s the love of my life.”

At Jisoo’s revelation, Mingyu glances warily at Wonwoo who’s sitting on the table next to them, his attention focused on the newspaper in front of him. Regardless of his act of indifference, Mingyu knows there’s a chance he’s listening to them. And while he is certain that he has feelings for the man, trusting him with a normal citizen’s fate is not yet an option Mingyu can consider with a light heart. He moves his seat closer to Jisoo’s, so they can both look straight across the street and into the gallery.

“Does he know what you do?”

An amused chuckle escapes Jisoo. Mingyu deserves that, he supposes, for asking such a naive question. It’s better to cover all of his bases, though, regardless of how mundane they might be. 

“He doesn’t even know my surname. I gave him a fake one. To him, I’m a boring accountant.”

“You’re an accountant, alright, but boring isn’t a word I’d associate with someone who counts their money by weighing it on a scale,” he gently reminds him. “Remember the third rule, Jisoo.”

“Your father broke that rule with your mother.”

Mingyu clucks his tongue and ignores the ache in his heart that comes from the recollection.

“And where did that get her?” Jisoo frowns, which makes Mingyu feel slightly guilty for being so harsh with him. He has to ask these questions, though, in case Jisoo forgets to ask them himself. “What about my brother? He’ll kill _the love of your life_ if he finds out.”

“Surely you’re not implying that I keep things of this magnitude from Seungcheol.”

“Then what?” The brunet raises both eyebrows, waiting for Mingyu to process the information. If there’s one thing Mingyu knows about his older brother, it’s that Seungcheol absolutely does _not_ like to share, which means there is only one other plausible explanation. “Oh, that’s fun,” says Mingyu as the realisation dawns on him.

Jisoo grins. He looks happy, which is good if not for the complications behind his happiness. 

“How does that even work?”

“Love finds a way.” 

A three-way, it seems like.

As his gaze settles over Jeonghan’s figure, Mingyu can see how he lights up the room with his presence even from a distance. He shines, bright, almost like the sun. Jisoo always did like shiny things and Seungcheol’s one constant mission in life is to give Jisoo everything he wants. It makes perfect sense.

Except— “Why are you telling me this, hyung? How do you know I wouldn’t use this against Seungcheol?”

Jisoo leans back on his seat, a coy smile playing on his lips. “Because you wouldn’t use it against me.” 

Damn it. He’s right.

“And because,” he pats Mingyu’s forearm once before he continues, “you have never once, not even when we were kids, referred to him as your half-brother. It’s always, my brother this, my brother that. _Brother_.” 

Mingyu leans back in his seat to properly look at him. He wasn’t even aware that the distinction is important, but it seems that it is, at least to Jisoo. “Despite everything you try to present yourself as, Mingyu, diamonds do shine in the darkest of places.”

“Hyung, what does Jeonghan know about Seungcheol?”

“That he likes to carry knives around for protection and that he owns a coffee shop.”

The dots begin to connect inside Mingyu’s head. He cringes inwardly. 

“Not this one.”

“Oh, this very one,” Jisoo looks around the place fondly. Well, that explains why he was on such friendly terms with the barista. “He actually bought the deed to this place so that he can have a reason to visit Jeonghan whenever he likes.”

Because of the life he’s lived, Mingyu’s always had a skewed perspective on love. He loves Minyoung beyond the shadow of a doubt. He loves her to death, would gladly rip his heart and deliver it to her on a silver platter if that would make her happy. He loves Jisoo, of course, he loves Seungcheol. Minghao, too, in one particular way at one point, and then in another after.

It didn’t work out for them, and during nights he spent awake staring at his ceiling, Mingyu always thinks that it’s because he doesn’t know how to love properly. In the romantic sense, at least.

Seungcheol, for all the things people can and have said about him, there’s always this consensus: that the devotion he has for Jisoo is strong enough to move mountains, to part seas. Mingyu agrees with that wholeheartedly. Seungcheol is giving Jisoo all the love he’s never gotten from anyone in his life and Mingyu, though unlikely he’ll ever say this out loud, admires him for it.

At the tender age of fifteen, Mingyu walked into the kitchen in the middle of the night for some water and found Seungcheol harshly scrubbing away blood from beneath his fingernails. Blood that he knew didn’t belong to his brother. His spear-point knives, placed right next to the sink, are all covered in scarlet. Mingyu learned exactly how deadly those hands are that night, but when he watched them cup Jisoo’s face over breakfast the next morning, there was nothing but warmth and caution in them.

Mingyu doesn’t trust Seungcheol, he’ll be a fool to do so, but when it comes to Jisoo’s safety, there’s no other better person to ensure it.

“You two have people following you.”

Jisoo’s expression darkens, a cloud passing over his brown eyes. “We don’t let them leave with any information that might jeopardise Jeonghan’s safety.”

“You’ve killed for him?” 

No answer. That serves as an answer all in itself. 

“No. Of course not. You let Seungcheol do the work.”

Before, he thought the arrangement he has with Wonwoo is already pushing his luck, that he’s about to run out of it soon and the whole thing is going to crumble down on him, the weight crushing his back until he finds himself unable to breathe beneath it. But if Mingyu is playing with a stone and a piece of wood, Jisoo’s holding a barrel full of gasoline in one hand and a lighted torch in the other.

He can only pray that both of them walks out of this unburnt.

That night, as soon as Jisoo leaves for the comfort of his shared quarters with Seungcheol, Mingyu pushes Wonwoo through the door of his own and crowds him against the wall next to it. “We’re not going to report to anyone where we went today, okay?”

Wonwoo’s eyes are cold on his as he replies, “Okay.”

“Okay, what?”

His gaze doesn’t change, but Mingyu feels a shift in the air when Wonwoo speaks again. “Okay, Gyu.”

It isn’t exactly the answer Mingyu wanted from him, but he decides that it’s better.

☆

“Are we going out tonight?”

Mingyu, who is in the process of taking his jacket off, feels like the answer to that question is a rather obvious no. So, he doesn’t know why Wonwoo’s even bothering to ask him that.

“I cleared your leave earlier.” Wonwoo is not looking at him, throwing the suggestion nonchalantly. His eyes skim over a piece of printed paper in hand, probably one of the surveillance reports. “It’s Friday night.” 

From across the room, Mingyu stares at him blankly.

Getting no response from the younger, he finally lifts his head to meet Mingyu’s gaze. 

“It’s club night.”

Wonwoo pushes his thin-rimmed glasses further up his nose from where it had slid down due to all the reading he’s been doing. He’s… effortlessly beautiful like this, Mingyu still gets caught off-guard by the sight of him wearing glasses, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his first two buttons popped open. Without context, Wonwoo just looks like a regular office worker. Not a skilled man working in protective service.

“Oh,” Mingyu blinks slowly before he focuses his attention on Wonwoo. “Should I go?”

“If you want to.”

“Do you want me to?”

That’s such a stupid inquiry. What kind of answer is he expecting from Wonwoo, really? Does he really expect Wonwoo to tell him no, as if it matters to him if Mingyu was to fuck someone else? Who’s to say Wonwoo is strictly fucking _him?_ Ah, shit. Mingyu is losing it. They slept once. It was good—incredible, even—then it ended. Now they’re on professional terms again.

“I don’t think my opinion matters.”

Right. See? Of course. To hell with it.

“No, I’m not going,” sighs Mingyu, tired. Tired of the pretence, tired of the ambiguity of their relationship, tired of never knowing where he stands with Wonwoo. He’s tired of it all. “You can go.”

He turns away and is walking toward his room when Wonwoo calls out to him again. “Gyu?”

Despite himself and the ache in his soul from the interaction that unfolded just now, Mingyu stops in his tracks and turns around to face him. 

“Will you be retiring early, then?” 

The choice of words alone let Mingyu know exactly what he means, but Mingyu’s glad he has access to the expression on Wonwoo’s face when he asks him the question, because he recognises it to be a familiar look. Almost identical to the one he wears the night he spent in Mingyu’s bed for the first time. This time around, the nervousness is washed away, replaced by something akin to anticipation.

Mingyu straightens up. “Yeah. Yes, I am.”

“Will you be locking your door?”

The shadow of a smile is threatening to take shape on Wonwoo’s lips.

“Depends,” Mingyu pretends to mull it over, pretends he’s not too far gone on Wonwoo he’ll let him do just about anything he wants. “Are you coming for a visit?”

“Depends,” Wonwoo returns, appearing just as thoughtful. “Will I be welcomed?”

His voice isn’t as shaky as he thought it would be when he says, “You will.”

“Then I think I’ll stop by for a bit.”

“Can I have thirty minutes to shower?” Mingyu asks, walking backwards so that he can still take a good look at Wonwoo’s face for as long as possible. “I’m sticky, and not in a good way.”

Wonwoo dismisses him with a wave of a hand. “Fine. I’ll just make you sticky again after your shower, though.”

Mingyu can’t help the smile that blossoms across his face. If Wonwoo won’t allow himself to loosen up, Mingyu will have to do all the work for him. Doesn’t matter. He's glad to be doing it, anyway.

“But _that_ will be sticky in a _very_ good way.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively at the older man.

“Alright.” 

Now there’s a matching smile on Wonwoo’s face. _Finally._ Maybe it’s the lights causing this optical illusion, but Mingyu swears there are pink dusting his cheeks, too. 

“Go take your shower.”

“Alright.”

Wonwoo knocks on his door five minutes after Mingyu’s done with his bath. He hates to admit that he’s been pacing back and forth in his room waiting for Wonwoo to show up—even having to scramble to sit on the bed when he finally hears the soft raps on wood, simply to appear nonchalant. Mingyu answers Wonwoo’s call only after he deems himself looking good enough in his naked glory, legs wide open and inviting.

The older man opens the door just wide enough to let himself in, then closes it behind him and leans against the frame. He whistles at Mingyu’s nude presentation, though Mingyu suspects he isn’t surprised by it.

“You’re still fully clothed,” Mingyu notes, voicing his dissatisfaction at the situation. “I’m naked. That’s not fair.”

Wonwoo’s eyes twinkle. He pushes himself off the door and walks over to the bed, tugging his tie loose in the process. He plays with the item after he finishes removing it from around his neck. Wonwoo hikes a knee up the bed, and then the other, crowding Mingyu’s lap with his legs and ass and—oh. He’s half-hard already. 

Mingyu is busy basking in the feeling of Wonwoo’s erection pressing against his thigh, only snapping out of his reverie when something moves to cover his eyes.

“What are you doing?” He stops Wonwoo with a firm hand on his wrist. 

The older man leans back, licking his lips. “I want to try something. Do you trust me?”

Mingyu searches his face.

“I do.”

“Okay,” Wonwoo smiles sweetly, “then close your eyes.”

Mingyu does as he is bid. He feels Wonwoo’s tie coming around his head, cutting off his sight completely. Feels it being tied neatly to a small, pretty knot right in the middle of the back of his head. Feels the rush of air over his ears as Wonwoo pulls away and settles back into his lap, one leg in each side of Mingyu’s hip.

“What now?”

There’s some rustling to his front, presumably Wonwoo discarding the rest of his clothing to the floor if the dull thumps that follow are any indication to go by.

“We play a game,” says Wonwoo, sounding frisky. “It’s called _guess the body part_.”

A laugh ripples through him. Of course, this is the kind of thing Wonwoo is into. Mingyu nods both his assent and his anticipation. Wonwoo makes a small noise of satisfaction before skin bears down on Mingyu’s lips, warm and velvety. He puckers his lips to get a good sense of what’s pressing against him.

“What’s that? Your hand?”

Wonwoo snorts, then there’s a pinch to Mingyu’s left nipple that gets him shuddering on the bed. “Nope.”

Fuck, if this is punishment for getting things wrong, Mingyu doesn’t ever want to be right.

There’s stress applied to his lips once again, right in the middle of it. Slender, almost rectangular form. “What about this one?” Wonwoo drags his finger—at least Mingyu thinks it’s that—across his lips. Top to bottom.

It’s the feeling of his nail grazing the soft flesh of Mingyu’s inner lip that gives it away. 

“Your finger.”

“Good boy,” Wonwoo murmurs into his ear, right before his mouth slots over Mingyu’s and he’s sending his tongue down Mingyu’s throat.

The kisses come like an aggressive set of thank you—though for what he is unsure. They are like bullets piercing through Mingyu’s impenetrable wall of defences, a reminder of how good it felt like to have Wonwoo kissing him that first night. Perhaps most important above all, they are grounds for hope that this unnamed connection between them can continue on and on, as long as the world continues to rotate on its axis.

Mingyu thinks of them as a reward for getting the correct answer, but when Wonwoo moves away he asks, “What about that just now?” and Mingyu is the enchanted fool who replies, “Your lips. Your tongue.”

Wonwoo gives him a final peck for his answer, then commands him, “Open your mouth. Hold out your tongue.”

Mingyu does, and he’s glad to have chosen so, because Wonwoo replaces the lightness and sweetness of his mouth with the heaviness of his cock, alongside that the slight acidity that is familiar to him and him alone. This one Mingyu won’t mistake, _can’t_ mistake, despite having only done it once with Wonwoo before. Experimentally he swipes his tongue along the width, following a line of vein prominent on the underside of Wonwoo’s member, guided only by his instincts. 

He still can’t see anything through the tie, but Mingyu’s nothing if not a man of improvisation. He doesn’t even need to touch Wonwoo. All he does is move forward on the bed, taking Wonwoo’s length as far inside his mouth as his gag reflex will allow. Mingyu hollows his cheeks, his own desire spurred on by the provocative groan Wonwoo lets out from above him. 

There’s some knocking on wood and if Mingyu’s not too busy sucking Wonwoo off, tongue lapping over the head and collecting everything that comes out of the older man, he would have noticed that it’s the sound of Wonwoo gripping his headboard tight in order not to lose himself in Mingyu’s mouth. 

“Min-gyu,” he hears a heavy rasp. 

Mingyu hums pointedly. The vibration sends a jolt through Wonwoo’s own body and he wishes he could see those beautiful abdominal muscles of his tense under his persistent ministrations. 

“Min-gyu.” The bed creaks a little. “I’m c-close.”

The younger turns his face slightly, so the head of Wonwoo’s cock is now rubbing against the inside of his cheek while his tongue is pinned underneath its weight. He’s licking all over him with an enthusiasm a kid on a playground shows their lollipop and the act is entirely ridiculous if not for the fact that Mingyu can feel how hard he’s become just from performing this deed on Wonwoo.

He pulls away enough for Wonwoo to almost slip out of him before he speaks against the tip of his erection, “Then come for me.” Mingyu takes him in again, deliberately choking himself on Wonwoo's length and bringing his teeth just the slightest for additional friction. The next thing he knows, Wonwoo is unravelling inside him.

The older is marking the inside of Mingyu's mouth as his property, hot come shooting down his throat, hand moving from the headboard to grip the base of Mingyu’s skull and lock him in position. Wonwoo holds him in there while fucking his mouth for real, using Mingyu to chase his own pleasure. At this point, Mingyu stops caring about the game and tugs off the tie previously blocking his view and looks up.

The sight he sees almost makes him come on the spot. Wonwoo’s face is flushed, sweat collecting at his temple. His tongue peeks out of his strawberry mouth, a hint of white from his teeth that’s biting down on it as he tries to keep his volume to a minimum. His eyes are closed, his eyebrows pulled tautly. 

Mingyu has enough brain cells remaining to take note of the position Wonwoo’s taken, which must have been quite tiring for him. He has one knee on the surface of the mattress, one _trembling_ knee, and his other leg is propped up on the bed by the sole of his feet. All so that he can angle his cock into Mingyu’s mouth—something he could do just as easily by asking Mingyu to blow him. Wonwoo’s toes are curling inward, either from pressure or tension, causing Mingyu to take pity on him. He brings his hand up to support Wonwoo’s thighs as the older man continues to slide in and out between his jaws, riding out the entirety of his high.

It doesn’t last long. A moment later Wonwoo slips out of him clumsily and almost slams his entire body back onto the bed. Mingyu catches him with a hand around his waist and tugs Wonwoo forward until he falls into him, panting heavily onto Mingyu’s shoulder.

“Did I win the game?”

Wonwoo chuckles and shifts in his lap, reminding Mingyu that he’s practically fully erect at the moment. 

“You know you did.” 

“Where’s my prize?” 

He supposes being allowed to watch Wonwoo come is a reward all on its own, but Mingyu’s allowed to be cheeky once in awhile. It’s not an unforgivable crime to want to be spoiled by Wonwoo, and even if it’s one Mingyu wouldn’t mind going to hell for it.

A playful slap is delivered to his chest. “Give me a minute, then I’ll fuck you until your throat’s raw from screaming out my name.”

His dick twitches in interest at that. Ever since Wonwoo’s fucked him that first night, Mingyu has always been on the lookout for an encore. He hasn’t voiced the thought out loud, having neither time, the opportunity, nor the bravery to do so, but tonight seems perfect for a repeat performance. He moves Wonwoo’s body with him as he reaches over to the side, grabbing the bottle of lube from his dresser and subsequently frowning.

“I’m almost out.”

Wonwoo lifts his head from Mingyu’s shoulder and blinks owlishly at the bottle of lube, one use away from being depleted of its content. “That’s enough for the night. Exactly how many rounds do you think you can take from me?”

Mingyu kisses his stupid, complacent mouth hungrily. 

“I’ll buy some in the next supply run,” Wonwoo tells him when they part, grinning against the line of Mingyu’s jaw. 

Is he even aware of the effect he has on Mingyu? Just with those simple words that hold such weighted implications, he’s got Mingyu under his trap. His words mean: they’ll be doing this again. They mean: Wonwoo’s fine with that, he’s even accommodating for the possibility. They mean: Mingyu is permitted to want more. 

Happy, he lets Wonwoo catch his breath, absentmindedly running his hand up and down the other man’s back in a soothing motion. Wonwoo kisses his shoulder to convey his gratitude, which only makes the smile on his face grow even wider. 

A minute passes, then another one. Mingyu just tilts his head back against the headboard with his head angled to the ceiling, holding the reign of his horses tight. His patience pays off, as soon enough Wonwoo stirs and begins tracing the column of his neck with his mouth. Down and down and down he goes until Mingyu feels a sharp bite on the soft flesh inside his thighs, a sensation that can only come from Wonwoo sinking his canines into Mingyu’s body.

He opens an eye, lazy, and glances down at Wonwoo.

“On your stomach,” comes the command. 

Mingyu wants to say he doesn’t clamber to obey Wonwoo’s order, but that would make him a liar. 

“Oh?” Wonwoo comments from behind him when he’s met with barely any resistance to his finger prodding inside Mingyu. There’s an abundance of smugness in his voice, his amusement barely contained in his speech. “What do we have here?”

Mingyu fucks himself back onto his finger, desperate. “Can’t a man play with himself without it being a crime?”

“You did plan on getting fucked tonight after all.”

_By you. Only by you. Your face is the one that comes to mind as I pumped my fingers into myself in the shower._

In order to not give away more than he already has, Mingyu throws out an indignant, “Are you going to fuck me or not?”

Wonwoo lets out a considering hum. “I think I liked it better when your mouth was occupied.”

“You did promise I’d be screaming your name,” he reminds Wonwoo. 

Mingyu knows Wonwoo will stay true to his words once he’s given them, but it’s good to have him fulfil those promises sooner rather than later. Wonwoo’s got to come once already and Mingyu’s still right at the edge, he might not even need to touch himself to reach the stars tonight.

As retaliation, Wonwoo licks a hot stripe over Mingyu’s perineum and around his hole. “What’s my name?” Hot breath blows over the sensitive skin, making Mingyu’s heart flutter weirdly inside his chest. 

Wonwoo kisses him right in the middle of his opening and Mingyu throws all caution into the wind.

“Wonwoo, fuck,” he shoves his ass up in the air for Wonwoo’s ease of access, “please—just—”

Finally complying with his request, Wonwoo shifts his position on the bed and holds Mingyu by the hips as he nudges the younger’s thighs open with his knees until Mingyu is lying flat on his stomach, spread out for him. Open and pretty and welcoming, though by no means patient. 

There’s a cold sensation over his ass—lube, Mingyu recognises—then a quiet, “Remember your safe word, Gyu?”

“Andromeda,” Mingyu croaks out, practically keening. 

At the confirmation he’s given, Wonwoo begins to ram into him mindlessly. No calculated angling of his hips, just pure madness and brute force. His fingers press considerable dents into Mingyu’s flesh, marks in the form of ellipses that Mingyu has no protest against. Wonwoo descends his body until his front is flushed against Mingyu’s back, their skin sticking to each other in a good way. 

_Just as he said_. Wonwoo does keep his words, after all.

Through the thick haze of desire, Mingyu realises there are kisses being peppered to the back of his neck, and promptly registers that they are kind and gentle in contrast to Wonwoo’s fierce, unyielding attacks on his prostate. 

Teeth skim his shoulder, wet mouth on his shoulder blades, the junction between them. Wonwoo’s hips are still rolling mercilessly and Mingyu hears himself say his name over and over again, in between curses and words of affirmation. 

He wants to bite down on his tongue and refuse to give Wonwoo the satisfaction of being right, but he can’t. He can’t think with the way Wonwoo is slamming into him, stimulating him everywhere and making him all confused with the difference between his sweet kisses and devilish thrusts.

“W-wonwoo, Wonwoo, _Won_ —“ Mingyu lifts his hips up, wrecked underneath the pace Wonwoo’s set for them. Unforgiving, Wonwoo places a hand on the small of his back and pushes him back down on the bed. 

He’s not screaming, per se. Wonwoo doesn’t give him any chance to, fucking the syllables out of him before he can move from one onto the next. Mingyu is going insane because he can’t touch himself this way, can’t relieve himself unless Wonwoo allows him to.

With the way the things are going, Wonwoo might as well be mounting Mingyu like a horse. Mingyu hides his face on the crook of his elbow and takes what Wonwoo is giving him like the good boy Wonwoo’s said he is. His moans rip through him, mind spinning out of control. It’s impossible for him to reach for himself when Wonwoo’s holding him down with his brutal grip—the frustration that comes from this, on top of everything else that’s going on, is almost entirely too much.

The air next to his ear is suddenly replaced by Wonwoo’s cheek, rubbing and rubbing against his outer earlobe. Another deep thrust sends him jostling up the bed. “D’you wanna come?”

Mingyu nods fervently, his own face rubbing against the pillowcase, cheek heating up from the friction. Wonwoo’s hand moves to his thigh and starts kneading into the muscles for a purpose Mingyu doesn’t fully comprehend until he’s yanking Mingyu off the bed without pulling out of him. 

Wonwoo, with his hidden strength that never fails to surprise Mingyu because he doesn’t know where he hides it in, manoeuvres them until Mingyu’s practically sitting on him, both of them still facing the same direction. With the same strength, he brings Mingyu’s body up and down on his cock, though this time he does struggle a little. Mingyu’s thighs are lined with his—he’s pretty sure by the slight inclination of their position that Wonwoo is supporting them with his heels digging into his own ass. 

The younger’s ears begin to ring at this point, and he’s not sure if he’s moaning or whimpering or wailing anymore. 

A hand comes to curl around his throat, a finger pressing into his racing pulse point. Wonwoo lifts Mingyu off of him with an arm around his waist, then lets gravity aid Mingyu in his way to impale himself on his cock one final time.

Mingyu’s vision bursts, an explosion of colours behind closed lids.

He almost falls forward and away from Wonwoo if not for the hand on his throat that tilts his head back. Later, much _much_ later, he’ll be amazed of how Wonwoo’s managed to maintain this difficult position throughout, but right now he can only think of utopia and imagines that whatever he can find there is definitely not as good as this feeling he has inside him. 

Wonwoo stops being mean the second Mingyu orgasms, but still guards himself against touching Mingyu where he should the most. It might be because he’s trying to hold on to the younger and prevents any form of physical detachment from happening, or it might be because he knows that touching him is unnecessary. 

Mingyu’s cock jerks and throbs without any help, white ribbons shooting out of him and painting the sheet, some dripping down the side of his shaft. Even as he feels Wonwoo filling the condom with warmth, Mingyu just lays his head back on his shoulder and lets the older man holds the two of them together until his convulsions have all subsided. 

Only then does Wonwoo carefully position him back on the bed, shifting slightly to the left to avoid the wet spots Mingyu’s made on the sheets. He pulls out of him and Mingyu weakly turns his head to the side, not having enough energy left to even roll on his back. Through the slight opening of his eye, he sees Wonwoo wearing a smile. A _sated_ smile that comes closer to him and finally forms against his cheek before Mingyu slips into blissful oblivion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [stream falling flower](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u4iDL3c0T1c) and help me decide [which fic for mingyu's birthday](https://twitter.com/_bloominsummer/status/1243568002764808200?s=20)?
> 
> visualisation of wonwoo's [red suit](https://twitter.com/_bloominsummer/status/1243570804819996673?s=20) (of course, it's the iconic outfit)
> 
> also!! hopefully, updates will be on Fridays from now on, unless I play around and post a chapter out of nowhere HAHAHA.


	5. Ch. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mingyu shoots Wonwoo a smile, which the older man returns. A pleasant feeling settles in his chest, making him feel warm all over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for Chapter 5: references to violence, blood.
> 
> also... warning... i do not know much about cameras. apologies.

“Minyoung wants someone to accompany her shopping.” Mingyu reads the content of the text message his sister just sent him aloud. Wonwoo looks up from where he’s sitting by the kitchen table, but shows no sign of taking action at Mingyu’s words.

“And you’re telling me this why?”

He gives him a look that says, _duh, what do you think?_ “You’re going with her.”

“My duty is to you,” comes the immediate response. Wonwoo says it with none of the sternness of a scolding, which tells Mingyu if he applies the right amount of pressure on him, the bodyguard will give in to his request.

“My sister means more to me than my own life.”

Just as expected, Wonwoo’s opposition to the request stops at that. He stands from the chair and proceeds to button up his suit. “Alright.” Lifting his gaze to meet Mingyu's, Wonwoo asks, “Will you promise stay in while I’m gone?”

This, Mingyu must admit, he did not see coming.

“You’re making me _promise_?”

It’s baffling, both the request and the whole situation, and he knows he’d be staying awake tonight staring at his ceiling or out his window trying to figure out the hidden meaning behind it. Trying to understand Wonwoo, the contradictions he presents from one moment to the next.

Wonwoo shrugs. Weirdly, the air of insouciance he gives off only compels Mingyu to agree with him.

“And what happens if I break it?”

The gaze directed at Mingyu dims slightly. “I guess we’ll have to find out for ourselves.”

He’s out of the room before Mingyu can get another word in response, leaving the door slightly ajar in his wake as to present a challenge and the younger man to stare after him. 

Mingyu ends up staying in despite his brain continuously telling him he’s under no obligations to do so. He reasons that it's only he didn’t have any plans to go out initially that he has not moved a muscle from the position Wonwoo left him in. Though if he’s being completely honest, he doesn’t leave because he was asked not to. Because _Wonwoo_ asked him not to. Four hours is such a long time to be spent going over delivery reports, even though Lee Seunggi’s latest drama is playing on TV and it helps alleviate the situation a little bit. He still got bored after the first thirty minutes, but every time he looked over at the door there is something anchoring him to his spot. 

Wonwoo’s somehow become his ball and chains. God, what a ridiculous concept that is. 

He’s gone through half of next week’s plans when the door finally opens again to reveal a dishevelled-looking Wonwoo, whose words of greeting to him are, “You didn’t leave.”

“You sound surprised.” Mingyu closes the file in front of him. 

“I’m tired,” Wonwoo tells him, though Mingyu can tell just by looking at him how worn out he is by whatever Minyoung had him do. “Your sister had me carrying seven shopping bags in each hand.”

Mingyu chuckles. Sounds about right. “Want a massage?”

“No, I’m fine.” He threads his fingers through unruly locks of dark hair. “Don’t offer things like that, I’m your employee.”

“I literally sucked your dick last night,” Mingyu deadpans. 

The pull and push gets overwhelming at times. He’s never sure how to act around Wonwoo, which is inconvenient for him to say the least. Some days Wonwoo will allow him to breach the subject of them being involved sexually without any reprimands, other times he’d berate Mingyu sharply for even approaching the matter in a tangent. For all the times they’ve spent together, he still has so much to learn when it comes to reading Wonwoo’s moods. 

Those damn eyes of his don’t help his purpose either.

“And I returned the favour.”

Mingyu scoffs at his reply. “So what, it’s some sort of business transaction?”

Wonwoo doesn’t disagree, but he doesn’t affirm either. Instead, he leans down to gently mould his lips over the moist curve of Mingyu’s own, an attempt to soothe younger’s building frustration. Despite his annoyance, Mingyu commits the feeling of being kissed by Wonwoo to memory.

“Minyoung told me.”

Typical of his sister.

“Which dirty secret of mine did she spill out?”

“Not yours, hers,” Wonwoo tells him. He takes a deep breath, which means whatever she told him, it isn’t good. “The merger.” Right. That confirms Mingyu’s suspicion. “She was supposed to marry Kwon Soonyoung to seal the deal.”

Mingyu could never forget _that_ , but the truth is that fact hasn’t been haunting him as much of late. 

“She won’t have to anymore.”

He made sure of that.

Suddenly, there are fingers splayed across the jut of his chin, the touch ghosting over his 5 o’clock shadow. The younger leans forward to slot their mouths together again. He revels in how quickly and easily Wonwoo opens up for him, allowing him free rein to do whatever he wants. Mingyu cups Wonwoo’s face with his hands and tilts his head to the side to deepen the kiss, his nose brushing against Wonwoo’s sharp one. The bodyguard props one hand on the back of the couch and another on his shoulder, pressing forward into Mingyu.

They stay like that for awhile—wet, smacking noises from their activity filling the quiet of the room. The slide of their tongues together almost becomes unbearable to Mingyu and the growing tightness in his pants, but then Wonwoo pulls away from him with one final peck.

“You’re a good brother, Gyu.”

Mingyu melts from the sincerity dripping from his words.

“Stay, tonight.” He plays with the lapels of Wonwoo’s shirt.

“Okay.”

The speed with which Wonwoo agrees hurts Mingyu. It feels like he’s _obeying_ him instead of accepting an invitation, so Mingyu immediately seeks to rectify his context. “It’s—it’s not an order. Leave if you want to, but I’d like it if you’d stay.”

There’s a slight pause. Then, “Okay,” Wonwoo says again.

And stay, Wonwoo does.

☆

“Can we go out?” Mingyu asks Wonwoo, even though he’s already dressed in his sleepwear. 

The compound just feels suffocating all of the sudden and he finds himself in desperate need of temporary liberation from the metaphorical shackles holding him down. Lately, freedom for Mingyu comes in one of two things. The psychological sense: sex with Wonwoo, feeling the press of solid warmth against his own body, freeing him from all of his fears. The physical sense: fleeing the four walls his father built around him, the expensive cage he is supposed to call home. One removes his mind and the other removes his physique out of it.

Tonight, he needs the second method.

Wonwoo smiles at him, warm. “Club?”

They both know the answer is a no.

“For a walk. Just us, if that’s okay.”

The urgency in his tone has his bodyguard looking at him properly. “Cap and mask,” says Wonwoo. “30 minutes tops, okay?”

“Main roads?”

“You are really pushing it,” Wonwoo grumbles, too fond to be really vexed with Mingyu’s request. “Let me check with the guys.”

“Do you have to?”

“Yes.” In some ways, sleeping with Mingyu hasn’t changed Wonwoo. He still carries out his tasks to the best of his abilities and takes approximately none of Mingyu’s bullshit.

“Okay.”

Mingyu leaves him to get changed into something more appropriate and when he returns to the living room, Wonwoo is waiting for him with a disguise of his own. He wears a dark hoodie two sizes bigger than the one that would fit him perfectly, tugged to cover half of his face. In his hands, one of Mingyu’s cameras.

“Thought you might want to take some pictures.”

His heart swells at the gesture, the thoughtfulness behind Wonwoo’s offer. It’s almost like he can read Mingyu’s mind and knows exactly what he’s thinking, that he needs an escape for reasons he can’t begin to put into words. There isn’t even a trigger of some sort, something he can look out for and try to stop before it starts. There’s just this darkness in him that’s bound to come out from time to time—inevitably.

“You can hold it if you’d like,” Mingyu tells him. “Drop it and that’ll be taken out of your paycheck, though.”

The smile Wonwoo offers the younger as a response is unjustly hidden behind the hood, but Mingyu figures there’ll be plenty of time for that later.

One step outside the compound and the air is instantly different. He breathes much easier, Wonwoo’s presence behind him a contributing fact to his ease. Mingyu slows his steps once they’ve turned around the corner and into the main road so that Wonwoo can catch up to him.

Cars buzz around them, engine thrumming and horns singing. There aren’t many people walking around as they are, only a group of young men around his age returning home after a night of drinking, swaying on their heels and clinging to each other. An old ahjussi manning the convenience shop that they pass without a second glance. Mingyu’s not sure what time it is currently, all he knows is that it seems to slow down around Wonwoo. 

Wonwoo, who stays by his side quietly, the strap of the camera looped around his neck, concealed beneath his hood. His hand curls around the item protectively. It’s a shame that they’ve brought it along with them all this way, but Wonwoo hasn’t taken one single picture throughout their walk.

“Here. Take a picture of me.”

Wonwoo halts in his steps. “Here?” 

He looks around. There’s nothing special to be captured, but then his eyes land on Mingyu and there’s that expression on his face again. See? Mingyu knew before that he’ll see it again soon enough. There’s a gleam in Wonwoo's eyes that seems to say _right. there’s nothing special here, but there is you, and you’re special on your own._

This time the smile blooms clearer than before, illuminated by the streetlights above their heads.

“How do I—” Wonwoo starts, fumbling with the lens cap clumsily. 

Mingyu waits for him to figure it out, which he does quicker than anticipated, then he’s raising the camera toward Mingyu. He’s waiting for further instructions, Mingyu realises after a beat has gone on too long and Wonwoo still hasn’t taken the picture.

“Check on the silver knob on the top right, see if its set to 400.” That’s the last film he remembers inserting into the camera. “If not, you need to pull up the adjusted lever and set it.”

“It’s already set to 400. The green coloured number?” 

Mingyu nods.

“Oh!” Wonwoo exclaims suddenly. “Sorry. I moved the black knob by accident. Did I ruin it?”

“That’s okay,” Mingyu assures him, holding back his amusement at Wonwoo’s childish display of enthusiasm. “That one is easy to move, just rotate it back until the white line near the shutter button meets the number 60.”

Wonwoo’s forehead scrunches in concentration as he struggles to do just that. _This man_ , Mingyu thinks idly, _will be my undoing._

“Okay, and then? Do I have to adjust the lens? It looks very complicated.” 

_Not as complicated as how you make me feel. So many things at once, Jeon Wonwoo. So many things at once._

Mingyu clears his throat. “Check the closest ring to you.”

“The one that’s set on a green letter A?”

That means auto mode. Well, that should be good enough for Wonwoo’s first shot.

“That’s called the aperture ring, okay? I’ll tell you more about it later if you want. The ‘A’ means that it’s set automatically, so you only have to adjust the black knob, the one you fiddled with just now.” 

Wonwoo listens to him intently, absorbing each and every single one of Mingyu's words and nodding to show that he understands.

“Now try looking into the small frame and through the lens.” Wonwoo squints one eye through the viewfinder.

“I’m looking.”

“See the small meter on the right?” 

The older pulls away to inspect the outer frame of the camera, which is not what Mingyu meant at all. It is endearing how clueless he seems about this whole thing, yet at the same time eager to learn the craft. Mingyu will have to let him take more pictures with the range of different cameras he’s left to dust in his study for the last couple of years. Probably a good idea to put them to use again, now that he’s found a good reason to pick up photography again. A muse. 

“Inside the frame,” he reiterates patiently. “There’s a small meter.”

“Oh.”

“What do you see?”

“There’s a red light blinking,” replies Wonwoo, still looking through the viewfinder.

“At the top or the bottom of the meter?”

“The top.”

“That means if you were to take the picture now, the result will be overexposed. Way too bright, you won’t see a thing, probably not even my face. Turn the black knob around until the meter’s somewhere in the middle.”

Wonwoo takes a moment to get the right shutter speed, and when he does he moves his face away from the camera and beams triumphantly. 

“Okay, you can take the picture.”

“What if it comes out bad?”

Mingyu shrugs. He doesn’t particularly mind wasting film on Wonwoo, but it seems that the older doesn’t bode well with anything less than excellence. Typical of him. 

“Well, we won’t know until we have time to develop the negatives.”

The bodyguard purses his lips in determination and dips his head back to look at Mingyu through the viewfinder. The younger indulges him, holds back a smile when he pushes his cap up so that his eyes are visible in the picture. He decides to keep his mask on, in case someone walks by at the wrong moment.

Wonwoo’s finger is shaking slightly when he presses down on the button, from the cold or the nerves or both. Mingyu fights the urge to warm his hand by catching it between his own and it’s almost a losing battle for him.

☆

“Can’t sleep?” Mingyu stretches his arm toward Wonwoo’s side of the bed—yes, he has his own side now—and finds the sheets there cold from lack of use. A sign that Wonwoo’s been up for quite some time. 

“The window was open.” Wonwoo turns to him upon hearing Mingyu’s question, though only halfway. “I just got up to close it.”

“And now you’re sitting there.”

“The moon’s beautiful tonight,” notes Wonwoo, his tone uncharacteristically sentimental.

He deliberately chooses to ignore Mingyu’s good-natured jab, which tells Mingyu he’s in one of his more serious moods. Those rarely come out once he declares himself as being off the clock, but there are nights when the atmosphere turns serene and Wonwoo gets this way. 

Distant, detached. 

Mingyu looks over at him, sitting wholly naked with one leg over the window sill and the other ground on the floor of Mingyu’s bedroom. A thin blanket is spread across his shoulders, falling over his chest but barely hiding the sharp lines of his body. 

Even from where he’s lying on the bed, Mingyu can see the signs of their recent embrace all over Wonwoo’s figure. It gives him a sense of pride alongside with a giddy feeling that has no absolutely business rising up within him.

“I can think of a view more mesmerising than the moon.”

He watches the corner of Wonwoo’s mouth quirks up. “Cheesy.” 

“You look like a god of some sort,” he continues on, as he knows despite Wonwoo’s remark that he actually enjoys Mingyu talking to him this sweetly. “A little too pale to be human, almost translucent except for where I left my marks on you.”

Wonwoo’s eyes leave the sky to travel down to his bare hips, where there are red handprints matching Mingyu’s palms imprinted on his skin. It’s not that Mingyu meant to leave marks, they will most certainly fade when morning comes anyway, but he felt in those delicate moments he had to hold on to Wonwoo as tightly as he could. Mostly to ensure the other man wouldn’t slip away from him the second he lowered his guard.

“A marked god.” He plays into Mingyu’s little game.

Mingyu nods. “Kissed by moonlight.”

All he gets in return is an absentminded hum, though he barely minds the lack of enthusiasm. Wonwoo’s mind is someplace far, not quite where his body is, but Mingyu is a patient man when it comes down to it. As long as Wonwoo comes back to him at the end, he doesn’t mind the long journey it will have to take him to do so.

“Come back to bed,” Mingyu calls out finally when the silence stretches, a hand extended toward Wonwoo. 

“Do you want the window open or closed?”

He considers the question and looks at Wonwoo’s figure, the forlorn expression on his face while he gazes imperceptibly at the night sky and all its vastness stretched out in front of him. Then he gives Wonwoo an answer that comes from the sincerest nook of his heart.

“Whichever configuration that means you won’t disappear on me to return to your rightful place among the stars.”

Wonwoo leaves the window open and walks back to him. 

He does disappear, eventually, when dawn breaks over the horizon the next morning. Mingyu hears him shuffle quietly around the room in a futile attempt to not wake him up. Too bad Mingyu’s a light sleeper; years of recurring nightmares and living in a constant state of anxiety has made him one. He hears the door creaking open before Wonwoo’s padding gets louder instead of softer, and _then_ Wonwoo gives him the biggest shock Mingyu’s had in a while. 

He kisses Mingyu right where the bridge of his nose meets his left eyebrow. Just once, just a press of cold lips against warm skin. The moment is evanescent. And yet, it takes everything Mingyu has in him to not let Wonwoo know he’s awake and pull him back in bed, wrestle him with his arms until Wonwoo goes pliant in his embrace. He doesn’t know whether the spell will break if Wonwoo sees his eyes open, and he’d rather not risk it. 

So Mingyu waits. He waits until the door closes behind Wonwoo before he lets out the breath he’s been holding, feeling both exhilarated and terrified at the same time.

☆

Seungkwan sidles up to him, so close that Mingyu can smell the scent of strawberry shampoo on his blond locks. It’s disarming, though he suspects it’s meant to be disarming. Seungkwan needs people to feel comfortable around him for him to do his job effectively.

“Hello,” he starts, saccharine sweet. 

Every cell in Mingyu’s body screams the same warning: dangerous object approaching.

Mingyu casts him a side glance. If he is to survive whatever Seungkwan is plotting, he has to put up an air of nonchalance around him. The game isn’t as much fun for the younger if his opponent isn’t affected by what he has to say. Years of experience led Mingyu to this conclusion, and it’s rather unfortunate to say that before he learned, Seungkwan has him falling into one of his well-set traps on a weekly basis.

He brings the glass of rum and coke to his lips, sipping it once.

“What do you want, Kwannie?”

“So rude,” the younger clucks his tongue in disappointment. “And here I thought you missed me.”

At that, Mingyu allows him a laugh. Seungkwan is, despite all the tricks up his sleeves that more often than not leads to Mingyu’s ruin, one of the people he deeply cares for. He knows practically nothing about the younger boy’s past except for the snippets Seungkwan voluntarily tells him, none of which are pretty enough for him to repeat to others. 

A hard life he’s lived, but Seungkwan connected the dots early and made out that people are less guarded around him when they feel empowered, either by kicking him literally or figuratively. Mingyu put an end to one of those methods when he crossed path with the younger. He taught Seungkwan what little he knew to protect himself and for that, Seungkwan always charged him less than his regular service rate.

If extracting information is an art, then Seungkwan is a master whose skill is second to none. Anything anyone wants to find out, anything worth a dime to know, Seungkwan will possess the knowledge under his belt. 

“I’m fond of you, but it’s rather unfortunate that you never bring good news for me.”

“Hey,” the younger protests, “the last one was good.”

Mingyu snorts. The last news he had whispered oh-so-innocently in Mingyu’s ears was about the merger. They both know how that particular story ended.

“I almost _died_.”

“That’s on you,” Seungkwan juts out his chin, indignant. 

To be fair, he’s right on that count. The only role the younger played was that of a messenger. Mingyu's subsequent actions after he received the information were all his own doing.

“I promise, this one is better than anything before.”

As enticing as that promise sounds, Mingyu’s not looking to make trouble for the moment. Things have just begun to settle down after the last storm he cooked up. There is no impending danger in the horizon, and what he doesn’t know, he won’t be able to do anything about. For now, Kim Mingyu just wants to keep living the way he’s been living for the past month or so. 

It’s good that he’s treating life like a gift and not a burden of late.

“Can’t pay,” Mingyu waves Seungkwan away. “Your fee is way too expensive for me, okay? I’m an exiled prince now.”

“Then, I’ll give it to you for free.”

This time, Mingyu is actually shocked not only by his answer, but also by the speed at which it had come. Seungkwan simply doesn’t believe in freebies. That is sure to be his number one rule if he were to have any in conducting his business. 

“You’re not serious.”

Seungkwan looks at him. Oh, he’s serious. “I’m dead serious.”

“No,” Mingyu refuses him gently. “I don’t want to owe you anything. That’s a more dangerous game than I’d ever like to play.”

“Hansol got this one from a credible source, this guy he met at a gathering somewhere. The name’s Chan.” 

When Mingyu fails to give him the response he wants, Seungkwan promptly continues with, “He’s—” As if on cue, Wonwoo’s eyes meet his from across the room, and Mingyu cuts Seungkwan off with a raised palm in his direction before he can say anything else.

“I don’t want to know.”

Mingyu shoots Wonwoo a tiny smile, which the older man returns before he lowers his head to hide his expression. It causes a tiny stutter in Mingyu’s heartbeat. A pleasant feeling settles in his chest, making him feel warm all over.

“Hyung,” Seungkwan insists stubbornly, fingers digging into Mingyu’s forearm to make his point. “This is about your _bodyguard_.”

“I know. I still don’t want to know. It’s gossip, isn’t it?”

“It’s juicy gossip,” he puts additional emphasis on the word juicy, “there is a difference.”

“Then I don’t want to know, Seungkwan-ah.” Mingyu hopes that him rolling out the suffix is enough to dissuade Seungkwan from his mission. “Whatever I need to know, Wonwoo will tell me. I assume if it threatens my life you’d lead with that. After all, I know you’re fond of me, too.”

Seungkwan gives him a look that is part revolt, part jovial. Definitely not a complimenting look on the younger.

“Jeez, you are in it deep.” Seungkwan launches the insult half-heartedly at Mingyu, who just returns his attack with a toothy smile. “ _Balls_ deep,” Seungkwan adds. 

Mingyu isn’t so sure if Seungkwan knows that he’s been sleeping with Wonwoo or if he’s throwing out a wild guess, which is more on the educated side than wild. Mingyu playfully swats at him as he walks away, the younger sticking out his tongue at him when he misses.

☆

Mingyu gets into a heated argument with one of his father’s handlers on an otherwise peaceful Sunday afternoon. He ends up with a split lip and some angry scratches on his knuckles, but the other guy was knocked unconscious by Wonwoo, unmoving where they left him on the floor. There might be some fallout to face from this incident, but when Wonwoo pulls out the first-aid kit from the cabinet above his sink, Mingyu’s mind goes empty.

He sits on the edge of the bed without Wonwoo having to tell him to, choosing to behave for once. 

His bodyguard gives him a contemplative look before he sits down next to Mingyu, a piece of cotton dabbed in antiseptic pinched between two fingers.

“Next time you plan on going on a suicide mission, will you tell me beforehand?”

“Why?” Mingyu flexes his hand, wincing at the slight stiffness. It stings when he speaks, too, the split on his lip bleeds again every time he does so. “So you can be the big hero and swoop in, save the day?”

Wonwoo fixes him with a disapproving look, like he expects Mingyu to act less like a child when he’s trying to have a serious conversation. He sets his mouth to a thin line and looks down at Mingyu’s hand.

“So I can get Minyoung out of here before she loses her protection card.”

Christ. Wonwoo sure knows how to rile him up by hitting where it hurts the most. His remark just now is completely uncalled for. Sure, Mingyu made a fuss and probably threw the deal he was supposed to close this afternoon, but it isn’t an offence great enough to elicit this kind of response from Wonwoo. It’s not like _he_ is the one who would have to deal with the consequences. Mingyu’s actions won’t hurt Wonwoo in any way. Inconvenience, perhaps, but not hurt.

So why is the older trying to hurt him?

“Her protection card?” Mingyu slaps his hand away when Wonwoo reaches to clean his wounds. “Is that all you think I’m worth?”

“Does your father care about her?”

No. The answer is no. Mingyu wishes he can say, _probably_ not, but he knows, deep down—the answer is no.

“No one dares to touch her because they think you are next in line,” Wonwoo speaks with an eerily calm demeanour, an edge of unadulterated truth to his words. “If you die, that safety net goes away with you. At least if I see it coming, I can take preventive measures. To protect her.”

He wants to trust him, to believe that Wonwoo means every word he says, that if something bad happens to him Minyoung will be taken care of. But words are just words, and when Mingyu dies he will become one with the Earth and the worms, his soul might not even be reincarnated because of the atrocity of the sins he has committed. In no way would he be able to hold Wonwoo to his words, even if he makes him take a vow.

“Promise me.”

Wonwoo actually looks surprised for a split second.

“Promise me you’ll get her somewhere safe.” He thinks of her, the sweet smile on her face whenever he comes back to the compound with a box of chicken from her favourite shop in Samseong. “Don’t tell Jisoo, don’t tell Seungcheol.” 

The crescent moons that replace her eyes when he says something silly. A spitting image of their mother, the sight never fails to shake Mingyu to the core.

“Tell Minghao if he finds you, which he will. Eventually.” 

The softness of her voice during nights when Mingyu’s nightmare ends up waking him up with screams loud enough to alert the entire compound. 

“Tell him she’s safe, but don’t tell him where you guys are.”

Minyoung’s immeasurable strength. The glue that holds _him_ together even in the darkest, gloomiest of days, when he feels like all the fight he’s put up until this point is in vain. 

“Protect her, let her lead the life she wants and be with the person she loves without having to look over her shoulders all the time.”

As soon as he finishes talking, Wonwoo reaches out a hand to wipe at his cheek and only then does Mingyu realise that it’s damp. 

“You’re talking like you plan on dying tomorrow.”

Maybe not tomorrow, but he knows for a fact that at the rate he’s going with his life, Minyoung will most likely outlive him by a couple of decades. 

God. Mingyu _hopes_ she will outlive him by a couple of decades, if not more. Having to bury her will be the thing that finally destroys him—he thinks he won’t even make it that far. He’d seek vengeance on her behalf, for sure, taking as many enemies as possible with him on his way down to hell. Mingyu clears his mind before the thoughts can swarm him further.

“Wonwoo, promise me.”

It’s scary, how quickly Wonwoo answers him. How firm and resolved and _unwavering._

“I promise, Gyu.”

Mingyu slides his palm over Wonwoo’s nape and pulls him into a kiss to seal the deal. He can taste the blood coming out from the crack on his lower lip, but Wonwoo swipes his tongue across, gently caressing it, and Mingyu finds he doesn’t mind the mild stinging if it means he gets to have Wonwoo’s mouth on his.

☆

A flash of blinding light takes Mingyu’s attention off his sales report. He abandons the forecast, actual, and variances values he’s been grappling with for the past hour and lifts his gaze up to meet a familiar face.

“What are you doing?” He asks Wonwoo, who stands to his right stiffly, looking like a baby deer caught in headlights.

In his now steady hands, Mingyu spots one of his digital cameras, a Fujifilm entry-level Minyoung bought him some number of years ago as a belated birthday gift.

“Practicing my…” Wonwoo trails off, searching for the right word, “lighting?”

“And doing poorly,” comments Mingyu. “How does the shot look?” 

Wonwoo frowns at him, which only deepens when he looks at the screen and gets a glimpse of his work. “Uhhh. Let’s just say I’m glad it’s not film.”

“It’s okay. Digital pictures are easy to work with, taps here and there and we’re good to go. You can even slap a black and white filter over it if the colours are irredeemable.”

Sitting down next to Mingyu, Wonwoo bumps shoulders with Mingyu and offers him the camera, “I think I should leave the photo-taking business to you.”

He takes the camera from Wonwoo, places it on the small stool next to the sofa, and pulls the other man in for an open-mouthed kiss.

“Your—” Wonwoo gasps when Mingyu’s canines nip at his bottom lip. “Numbers.”

“Fuck my numbers.” Mingyu growls impatiently.

His fingers sneak under Wonwoo’s jacket, but before he has the chance to take it further there are palms pressed flat against his chest. Wonwoo pushes at him and wrenches away from his grip, his movements harsh. Mingyu knows exactly what he is doing: drawing yet another invisible line between the two of them. 

He glances at the clock across the room. It’s ten minutes past nine. If Wonwoo can steal a camera from his study and decides to come to him and play, doesn’t that mean he’s off the clock? What did Mingyu do so wrong here, to be met with such a cold rejection?

The question is right at the tip of his tongue when Wonwoo’s honeyed voice fills his ears once again.

“Why fuck your numbers when you can fuck me?” 

It’s so casual, the way he throws the question over his shoulders. Like lovers engaging in foreplay. The younger tosses the papers in his lap aside and hurriedly runs after Wonwoo, who simply laughs mirthfully when he wraps an arm around his waist and drags him all the way to the bedroom.

Wonwoo only stops laughing when Mingyu throws him on the bed and covers his whole body with his own. From then on until deep into the night, the only sounds he make are those of pleasure and not amusement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so.....i've decided that we're halfway there to the end. I hope whatever happiness you have stockpiled from these chapters will be enough to fuel you through the upcoming ones. <3
> 
> [mingyu's pictures taken by wonwoo](https://twitter.com/_bloominsummer/status/1246100782107131905)
> 
> [thoughts on the story so faR??](https://curiouscat.me/bloominsummer)


	6. Ch. 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If I ever leave you, it'll be because you send me away."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for Chapter 6: graphic depictions of violence, mentions of guns, weapons, usage of slurs, abduction.

As much as he hates to admit it, Mingyu sleeps better during nights when Wonwoo shares the bed with him. It might have to do with additional heat shared from body warmth, with finally allowing himself to experience the intimacy he’d craved for his entire life. Maybe it’s even about trust. Knowing that nothing bad will happen to him while he takes his rest, because Wonwoo is there to protect him. Whatever those reasons might be, he doesn’t understand them completely.

Mingyu understands this, though: he’s falling. Quick and hard.

“Sometimes I hate her because she left me.” His words are mumbled in Wonwoo’s soft pyjama shirt— he wears one when he sleeps with Mingyu nowadays. “I’ll hate you, too, if you ever leave me.”

Just as he’s about to completely drift off, Mingyu hears Wonwoo’s subdued answer come in a hesitant breath. “If I ever leave you, it’ll be because you send me away.”

The sleep leaves his body in an instant.

With a palm flat on Wonwoo’s sternum, Mingyu pushes himself off of him. He looks down at Wonwoo, who’s busy staring at the door like he’s calculating how quickly he has to escape out of the room before Mingyu can stop him.

“Why would I send you away?”

Wonwoo doesn’t answer immediately. Mingyu’s heart picks up its pace. The small, nasty voice inside his head telling him that this is it—the other shoe will drop now. It’s been a long time coming, anyway.

“Wonwoo, why would I send you away?”

“Your father,” he begins, quiet. 

Mingyu rips himself away from him painfully, putting as much distance between the two of them as he can without getting off the bed.

The first thing that comes into his mind is Jisoo and his hidden lover, how that’s the most crucial piece of information that Wonwoo has in his possession. 

_No, please no_.

He tries to keep his voice steady as he asks, “Did you tell him about Jeonghan?” 

In the back of his mind, there’s a continuous chant of fuck, fuck fuck fuck, fuck, _fuck_. It’s not unexpected, if he’s being honest with himself it’s even likely that Wonwoo had done so. He had hoped that somewhere along the way, Wonwoo had grown to care about him as much as he did for him. Obviously, that is not the case here. 

It’s his own fault. Wonwoo droned about his duty all the goddamn time and now Mingyu’s what— _surprised_ that he was actually sticking to his original purpose? And yet Wonwoo knows, he _knows_ what’s been done to Mingyu. What’s been done to Seungcheol, to their mothers. To Minyoung. The injustices and cruelty against them. 

He had hoped that the knowledge was enough to sway Wonwoo’s allegiance.

Hope proves to be a dangerous, dangerous thing. 

Mingyu’s trust in Wonwoo might just be Jeonghan’s death sentence.

“No,” Wonwoo says after what feels like an eternity. Mingyu breathes a little easier for a second until— “He didn’t hire me.”

The clock on the wall ticks. The movement of the small hand staggers, taunting Mingyu, waiting for his next move. The wind that blows from the open window chills his back and sends a cold shiver down his spine. His blood runs cold in his veins. Icy. 

“Then who?” Mingyu demands, blinking back hot tears that are threatening to spill from his eyes.

Wonwoo sighs before answering. “Seungcheol.”

Heart sinking to the depths of hell, Mingyu doesn’t even think he has it in him to process this right now. He just wants Wonwoo out of his sight, right the hell now—but first, he needs to know one thing.

“Did Jisoo know?”

Wonwoo gives him a painful look as if it physically hurts him to answer. “No, he—”

“Okay.” Mingyu nods, getting up from the bed. He wrings his hands together. “Get out.”

“Gyu—”

“Don’t call me that,” the younger spats at him, livid, then points at the door. “Out. _Now._ Before I fucking shoot you.”

He has no gun on him at the moment, so they’re both aware that it’s a rather empty threat. Still, Wonwoo nods at his order and moves to obey it. His expression stays closed off the entire time he rises from the bed, gathers his work clothes previously draped on Mingyu’s reading chair, and leaves.

Wonwoo closes the door behind him softly and for the first time since he walks into the Kwon group mistress’ bedroom, Mingyu welcomes the darkness engulfing him with open arms, settling heavily over his soul like a blanket.

☆

Over breakfast the next morning, Jisoo detects Mingyu’s foul mood almost instantly, though he lets him play with his food for a good hour before he clears his throat pointedly, unable to stand the deafening silence any longer. The older throws a look in Mingyu’s direction and waits for him to speak up.

He settles his silverware next to his plate. “I’d like to request a change in my men.”

Jisoo eyes on him remain calm despite the storm brewing behind them. 

“In your protection details? Which ones caused trouble?”

“Wonwoo.” Mingyu enunciates clearly, drawing out the two syllables. His gaze is trained on his bodyguard—no externalised reaction so far. Wonwoo just stares blankly ahead, expression neutral as always. “He slept with me. Multiple times. Surely, that crosses some boundaries.”

Jisoo’s grip on his fork tightens. He turns toward Wonwoo. “You laid a hand on your subject?”

Wonwoo returns his stare but remains silent at that, refusing to rise to the provocation. 

“Oh, don’t blame him.” Mingyu’s attempt at appearing collected doesn’t fool anyone in the room. “You know how irresistible I am. I didn’t mind it at the time, but now I do.”

No one says another thing. 

It pains Mingyu to get the next sentence out of him. Partially because of how wrong it is, but also because how of unreactive Wonwoo is being. Like it doesn’t matter to him how it ends, like Mingyu is nothing more than a flimsy sentence in his book despite him filling an entire chapter in the younger’s own.

“I’ll take another man, whoever is second best to him.” He tips his head in Wonwoo’s direction, avoiding his eyes. “But he’s to stay out of my sight. Used goods make me sick.”

He doesn’t give the command directly to Wonwoo, which is probably why the bodyguard remains standing there in waiting. Jisoo eventually takes pity on the two of them and delivers the final blow. Swift and deadly.

“You heard him.”

Wonwoo bows to the both of them, respectful as ever, before he excuses himself from the room without sparing Mingyu a second glance. 

Mingyu waits for a moment, waits until he’s sure Wonwoo’s safely out of earshot and therefore out of his life, too. Then, he rests his head on the kitchen table and heaves out a sigh. _Ah_ , s _o this is how it ends._

“Did you like him?” Jisoo’s soothing voice fills the air. Full of consideration.

“So much.” No harm is done by admitting that. Jisoo will just treat this as another case of a complicated heartbreak. A man and his employee. Scratch that, Jisoo still thinks Wonwoo’s employed by his father. That adds another layer of complication Jisoo would be able to understand. “Too much.”

“I should have known,” his best friend says, empathetic. “You’ve always had a thing for pretty, brooding guys.”

And Mingyu has to admit, at the beginning that was what initially drew him to Wonwoo. It’s his eyes, as cold as they were, full of secrets. It’s the sharp jut of his jaw, the broad lines of his shoulders, the toned form of his chest accentuated by his shirts that were always a perfect fit on him. Then, it’s the ghost of his lips over Mingyu’s own. His touches, always, _always_ tentative and careful, as if Mingyu’s made out of porcelain and would break at the slightest wrong handling. His voice, low and needy, whispering words of affirmation that resonates deep within Mingyu as his nails dig into his back. 

It’s his embrace. The arms within which Mingyu feels protected, free as a bird broken out of its cage. 

It’s the hidden curve of his mouth whenever he steals a moment to smile at Mingyu. Encouraging. Reminding.

_I’m here._

It’s how his face contorted in pleasure, and then in pain, as he admits to Mingyu that all that they’ve built is based on lies. 

The house of cards is tumbling down.

And it’s dragging Mingyu along with it.

☆

“Come on,” Jisoo urges, pulling him up with a firm grip on his bicep. 

Mingyu shrugs him off and buries his face back into the pillow. 

His best friend resorts to yanking his blanket away and tugging at his shirt to annoy Mingyu into submission. Which, unfortunately, is a good strategy. Jisoo can be a pain in the ass when he wants to be, a skill he no doubts picked up from being around Seungcheol all the time. 

“You’ve missed meetings all week.” That, Mingyu has. “We need to get Won—”

Mingyu grits his teeth. “Don’t say it.” He wills the headache forming at the back of his head away just at the first syllable of _his_ name.

“Fine,” the older huffs in defeat. “We need to get _him_ out of your system. If not, you’ll get aforceful summon from your father. Is that what you want?”

He peeks an eye open and watches the tough expression on Jisoo’s face soften. The older pats him on the back once, twice, then Mingyu gives in to his wish and rises from the bed quietly. Jisoo leads him to the bathroom, where after a look in the mirror Mingyu decides against going out with only his face washed and takes a quick shower. Jisoo is trying to do something nice for him, anyway.

And as hard as it is to admit it, he’s right.

Mingyu _needs_ to get Wonwoo out of his system because he can’t afford to not stay afloat in the harsh sea. His father might have ignored his acts of disobedience these past few days, but there’s only so much he will tolerate from Mingyu before he sends an avalanche coming his way. If he lets his guard down for too long, there are wheels that will stop spinning, resulting in unfavourable events he’d eventually have to pay a hefty price to fix.

Bitter at the thought of the responsibilities he has to shoulder once again, at Wonwoo’s betrayal and how easy and quick it was for him to leave Mingyu, he scrubs his body with such force until his skin turns red and angry. Maybe, just maybe, if he does it harshly enough it will erase all the traces Wonwoo’s ever left on him. Wonwoo, who _Seungcheol_ hired to work for Mingyu. 

For what purpose?

Thinking about it will just trigger another violent headache. He hasn’t spoken to Jisoo about it yet, unsure where to even begin the story. In a way, he’s also giving Seungcheol a chance to come clean to his lover, since surely Wonwoo's told him of Mingyu’s dismissal of him from his service. But so far, Jisoo hasn’t come to him with an apology as much as trays of food and papers of delivery routes and schedules for Mingyu to approve, so he guesses Seungcheol hasn’t taken advantage of the privilege Mingyu has kindly allowed him.

He dresses himself the best he could, styles his hair around until it looks acceptable, though not quite inviting. That’s okay, Mingyu plans to lean heavily on alcohol rather than people as his coping mechanism for the night.

Jisoo’s waiting for him in the living room when he finishes. Mingyu looks around. The replacement they’ve sent for Wonwoo, what’s his name, is nowhere to be found. He probably has something better to do than sit around and babysit Mingyu, which is what Mingyu had him do three days in a row, now. The man must have not expected him to want to leave the compound tonight. If it weren't for Jisoo, Mingyu wouldn’t have.

It doesn’t miss his attention that Jisoo’s usual security isn’t around, either. 

“Where are your men?”

“Ditched them.” Jisoo rises from his seat, grabs his jacket, and walks over to the door.

Frowning, Mingyu catches up with him and puts a hand on Jisoo’s shoulder. “Seungcheol won’t like that.”

“Seungcheol’s busy trying out a dozen new sex positions with Jeonghan.”

Mingyu leans away. He considers the tired smile on Jisoo’s face, the absence of Seungcheol’s molten gold on his pinky finger.

“Tonight isn’t about me at all, is it?”

“Of course it is.”

“He loves you, Jisoo-hyung.”

“Of course he does,” Jisoo replies, in a tone that tells Mingyu that it’s hardly the point at all. “Jeonghan’s new, though. He’s fresh, untainted. Seungcheol worships him, would probably kiss the ground he walks on if Jeonghan asks him to. Once in a while, I figure it’s okay for them to have some time for themselves.”

“Every breath he takes is for you.”

Mingyu’s not saying it to be nice, he’s saying it because it’s true. He’s learned by now that there's so little he understands about how the world works, but at least this much he can say with certainty.

“Shut up.” Jisoo turns his face away from him, but not before Mingyu sees the sadness wash away from his features. “Tonight we’re drinking for you.”

☆

Mingyu’s on his fifth shot of tequila sunrise when the glasses hanging above the bar starts exploding before his two eyes. He grabs Jisoo roughly by the arm and navigates through the sea of writhing bodies, scrambling to get both of them out of the club. A small part of him regrets not having Wonwoo with them at this moment, because if something happens to Jisoo he…

They get out through the side door and in an instant, there’s a baseball bat aimed at his face. Mingyu sidesteps to avoid getting hit, unfortunately losing his grip of Jisoo in the process. The bat comes back, now angled downward to hit him in the thorax. Mingyu ducks—his head’s already spinning as the aftereffects of the alcohol hits—and charges right at the guy. They tumble to backwards together, the bat flying in some wild direction to their side. As soon as the guy’s back hit the ground, Mingyu puts his whole weight on his attacker. 

A knee to his chest, pressing right at the man’s diaphragm, the other one on the gritty ground of the alley. It’s the technique Wonwoo always managed to pin him down with whenever they sparred. The man flings his arms at Mingyu, who dodges them with trouble; the alcohol is getting to him. Fuck. 

Mingyu wraps his own hands around the man’s neck, wide palms covering almost the entire column, and squeezes. He hopes to put him to sleep and end his resistance, so that he can get out of here as soon as possible. The man claws at him, nails finally scratching Mingyu right across his cheek, withdrawing with skin and blood underneath them. 

The tiger head tattoo peeks from his sleeve when he pulls his hand back. 

Ah.

Mingyu’s atonement has finally come in the form of this stranger. 

There’s some shouting behind him, followed by a loud crash. He wants to turn around to check on Jisoo, but he knows the moment this man sees an opening he’d launch his attack, which might result in the both of them severely hurt. The Kwon group’s lackey trashes around in Mingyu’s hold relentlessly, but his lips are turning blue. He’ll give out soon. 

Just a minute longer, maybe even less.

Jisoo’s shoes are suddenly in his line of sight. His best friend is standing next to the man’s head.

Surprised, Mingyu lifts his gaze up.

And is promptly forced to release his hold on the man beneath him.

He rises to stand on his feet, tries his best not to sway despite the world blurring in and out of focus.

The guy didn’t come alone. Another man has got Jisoo locked in a chokehold, the sharp end of a pocket knife angled at his jugular. 

The one who attacked him struggles to get back up, but does manage to do so eventually. He picks up the baseball bat from the ground and touches his neck gingerly, purple marks from Mingyu’s fingers already blooming on his dark skin. The man looks down at the bat before he looks at Mingyu—considering. 

A moment passes, then the barrel of the bat connects with Mingyu’s jaw, snapping his head to the side and making him lose his balance. He falls on his back, right as he hears Jisoo cry out. Once, an urgent, terrified exclamation of his name. Mingyu tastes blood coating his tongue, feels it flowing to the back of his nose.

_Get up_. 

Somehow, those two words in his head are said in Wonwoo’s voice.

_Get up, Gyu._

Mingyu gets up. 

For his attempt, he takes a punch to the other side of his face and topples over to the ground again, face down this time. 

_Get up._

_I’m sorry, Jisoo,_ he thinks helplessly. The sharp edge of a rock digs into his thigh. _I can’t_. _I’m sorry_.

_Mingyu, get up._

The voice grows stern, borderline commanding. Mingyu struggles to open his eyes—it pains him a great deal to do so. His head is pounding, like a hammer is trying to smash his skull from the inside out. Still, he puts his palm flat on the ground and pushes himself up. Not all the way up, he can’t even do that, but at least he’s on his knees now. 

Warm streams of blood are trickling down his face. Dots of red on the ground in front of him. His nose, he thinks, it hasn’t stopped bleeding.

Jisoo stands before him, trembling, the knife is a flick of the wrist away from ending his life. 

Mingyu assesses the situation as best as he could. As far as he can tell, there are only these two men. The alley is deserted. One entry point is behind Jisoo, the other end blocked by a wall with no possible leverage to climb over. If he cries out for help, they’ll put him out like a wild animal before anyone would come to their aid. He can’t risk that with Jisoo around. 

He coughs and hunches forward, quickly leaning back up again before they could come at him.

The man who’s holding Jisoo sneers at him in disgust, then turns to his partner. “Which one is the bastard’s son?”

“The mutt,” the taller man—Mingyu’s attacker—rasps. He gestures at Mingyu using his baseball bat. “Don’t you see the resemblance?”

“Right.” The other man glances at Mingyu with vivid repugnance in his features. “What do we do with this one then?” Jisoo jostles in his hold, blinking back hot tears.

The taller man massages his neck, still sore from Mingyu’s tight grip. “Slit his throat.”

Jisoo closes his eyes. 

“NO!” Mingyu bellows quickly, earning a kick to his stomach for his uncontrolled volume. “No.”

He won’t say _please_. He won’t let them know how important Jisoo is to him, not if that means putting him in more danger than the one he’s already in.

Suddenly there’s a rough hand finding purchase in his hair, yanking Mingyu’s head back until he’s forced to tilt it up. His face is a mere hairsbreadth from his enemy’s. Mingyu can poke his eyes out like this if it were just him and the man. 

Shit.

Seungcheol is going to skin him alive for this. 

“Are you going to beg for his life, boy?” He releases his hold on Mingyu’s head pointedly. Mingyu lurches backwards from the force. “Who’s he to you?”

He spits blood to the ground before he addresses the two men. “The question is, who’s he to you?”

“An inconvenience.”

“Incorrect.” It hurts when he speaks. “He’s the money man.” The kick must have hit one of his internal organs because Mingyu’s insides feel like it’s on _fire_. “N-no doubt you want my father’s territory, that’s why I’m here.” He has to fight his own lethargy to get his words out. It _hurts_. “But if you want access to his fortune, a hundred billion won worth of them, that’s your guy.”

The greed in the taller man’s eyes flares. Mingyu can practically see his irises turning green at his words.

“How do I know you’re not lying to protect your boy toy?”

“You don’t.” Mingyu shakes his head, wincing from the strain he’s putting on himself. “Though if you eliminate him, you’d regret it ten thousand-fold when I’m proven right.”

A beat of silence as the man mulls over his words. 

There’s a group of people running past the alley, causing Mingyu to tense. The short hairs on the back of his neck rise at the commotion. He clutches at his chest, the pain that originates from his heart is spreading all over his body and the sensation is getting rather overwhelming. Mingyu doesn’t know how much longer he can hold on and put on a brave show to save both their lives. 

“It’s just one man.” The shorter guy tries to coax his partner, seemingly on board with the plan to rob Mingyu’s father blind. _Good._ “He’s built like a fucking twig, too. I can handle him.”

Cold gaze penetrates Mingyu’s defences, flooding his brain with fear of the unknown, the range possibilities of how things may end up for him, for Jisoo. 

“If you’re tricking us, your death will be long and sufferable.”

“Life’s already that way for me,” Mingyu shots back at him with a final wave of adrenaline, before another hard blow lands against his cheek and makes him lose his vision.

Before his slips into the dark void of nothingness, Mingyu’s last thoughts are of his sister.

☆

“Why am I here?” Mingyu asks the short man, who is once again left on babysitting duty. “If I’m to die soon, you can at least indulge me this much.”

Jisoo is out of the room and therefore his sight for now, no doubt being interrogated once again on how to access his boss’s offshore accounts. Mingyu's briefed him to give information in bits by bits, just to buy them both enough time until Seungcheol comes to rescue his love. Every time he brings up the possibility, Jisoo would close his eyes like he doesn’t want to see Seungcheol ever again if it means his boyfriend might get hurt in the process. But Mingyu knows it will happen sooner or later. 

The attempt, at least.

He prays every day Seungcheol’s head will still be attached to his shoulders when he walks through the door. Mingyu can’t handle any more loss, even if Seungcheol had deliberately used Wonwoo against him. Despite the pain his action has caused Mingyu, he is still his brother. 

The man in front of him considers Mingyu with a bored look on his face. 

“The big boss is old.”

Mingyu thinks that to leave him with this man while Jisoo’s out being questioned is in itself a method of interrogation. Sometimes they’d leave him with Jisoo alone for hours on end, but his best friend would always be drugged out of his mind. It’s quite an effective escape-prevention technique. If Mingyu can’t even engage in a proper conversation with him, he can’t concoct a plan that has half a chance of working. 

“What’s that got to do with me?”

“You disrespected his household and walked away scot-free.” A pointed look is shot in his direction. “Fucking and drinking like you hadn’t insulted the leader of a powerful group.”

“But you didn’t throw me at his feet immediately after you captured me.” 

Mingyu shifts his position, difficult as it is with the ropes that bind his body to the pole behind him and his legs together. The man’s hand instinctively moves to his belt, where his gun is safely tucked in its holster. 

Mingyu bites back a smile. Even rendered this helpless, he’s able to instil a dash of fear in his enemy. That’s somewhat a comforting fact.

The smile comes with a price, though. His ribs ache when he breathes out again, shooting pain down to his stomach. 

They had sent a man he wasn’t familiar with to check on Mingyu’s injuries sometime during the first night. The man pushed what Mingyu suspected was 5 milligrams of morphine into the vein in his arm before he did anything else. It put Mingyu under long enough for the man to patch him up as best as he could with what he had in his little medical bag. Mingyu could feel the adhesive plasters sticking to his skin when he came to, had confirmed their existence when the Kwon men finally let him take a shower.

After the pain subsides, Mingyu lifts his gaze to the man in front of him and waits for his elaboration.

“He’s giving up the throne soon.”

Ah. A change in power dynamics often leads to collateral damage, one way or the other.

“Junior’s a bit unpredictable.” Mingyu suspects he’s referring to the son, Kwon Soonyoung. 

He’s seen the man for a total of two times. Once, under the neon lighting of a newly opened club. It was a grand opening weekend Mingyu attended on Jihoon’s kind invitation. An hour or so after he arrived at the scene, he saw Kwon Soonyoung dancing in the middle of the floor like his life depended on it, graceful waves of motion running their course through his body. He had the whole room enchanted with his charisma, Mingyu included. All eyes were on him and he seemed to bask in the attention. The song ended, Kwon Soonyoung stopped. His eyes, undoubtedly his most prominent feature by the way they were slanted upward, gravitated over to the area where Mingyu and Jihoon were standing by the bar.

Mingyu knew exactly who he was—his father had shown him pictures of all of the men that would matter to them, the ones that possess a threat to their likelihood. But there wasn’t an ounce of recognition in Kwon Soonyoung’s features when his eyes landed on Mingyu and whatever he saw in him that night, he decided it wasn’t worth crossing the room to introduce himself. Another song started playing and he slipped through the mass of people swarming onto the dance floor, disappearing from Mingyu’s sight.

The second time they met, the situation was less than pleasant. Mingyu could only sit out on so many of those pre-merger meetings to express his disagreement on the matter before his father would take offence to his disobedience, so he forced himself to attend one on a rainy day in December. Kwon Soonyoung was seated to his father’s left when Mingyu and his own walked into the room. He remembered a feeling of unease and familiarity passing over him when the other’s gaze finally settled on his being. 

That was the day the leaders had agreed to bind the joining of their two groups through marriage between their children. As his father offered Minyoung like she was some property he owned to be given away, Mingyu dug his nails into his palms so hard he drew red. 

Kwon Soonyoung, on the other hand, locked his attention to Mingyu’s fists, absorbing each and every detail of his adverse reaction. Mingyu had tried to do the same to him, failing in his attempt because his emotions had overtaken him completely. There wasn’t much to gauge in Kwon Soonyoung’s expression, either way. His expression was schooled; Mingyu knew as much because he too had to learn to master it. Kwon Soonyoung was just a tad better at it than he was. 

“But we think we can get a seat at the big boy’s table if we bring you to him.” The man continues, pulling Mingyu out from his trance. "He can do what he likes with you. I’m sure he’d love to put a bullet in you. Or ten. He likes to clear the round. Have you heard?”

Mingyu, in fact, has heard of that particular story. Seungkwan had let it slip to him one night, after way too many shots of whiskey. Whether he had done it on purpose—Seungkwan _never_ does anything without a purpose—Mingyu could never differentiate.

“What makes you think he’d appreciate this gesture?”

The man’s lips curve to an ugly frown. “You sure ask a lot of questions.”

He answers him in a pleasant manner, trying to appeal to the man’s recessive lenient side. “Let’s just say I’m a dead man with raging curiosity.”

“He was the one who’s most vocal about taking action against that bastard of a father you have.” The man spats on the floor next to Mingyu’s feet. “Except the Head said no and what he says goes. At least until he kicks the bucket.”

“Which is soon.”

“Looks like it.” A heavy pause. The man looks over at him, assessing his limited mobility for a moment. “You were out unguarded. We didn’t plan shit that night, we just took the opportunity—basically ambushed you on impulse. Some guy had a heated argument with the bartender over the tab, things went south, and we saw you dancing earlier.”

Mingyu suspects as much. It was a clumsy job carried out in the middle of people’s panic; Jisoo was threatened with a _pocket knife_ , for God’s sake. They were just at the wrong place at the wrong time. That misfortune seems to happen to Mingyu a lot during the course of his life. Still, these two men have been careful in every step since. Mingyu hasn’t been able to catch either one of their names and it is  not from lack of trying. 

He also hasn’t got a clue as to where they’re being held. There are no windows inside the room he’s placed in. Mingyu hasn’t seen sunlight in days, he could only count the passing of time by the number of meals given to him. They’re not close to the one-week mark yet. There’s only one door in and out. Everything is concrete except the metal beams in the room they tie him and Jisoo to.

With the shitty make-shift bathroom in the corner, they don’t need to take them anywhere else. They treat him surprisingly well, like one would coddle a cow to fatten it up before sending it off to the butcher. Jisoo is always taken out of the room when they allow him to shower. As insurance. If he takes advantage of being out of his bounds, they’d do unspeakable harm to Jisoo. 

So Mingyu keeps his head down. 

“Is that why you had no firepower on you?”

“Who the fuck brings guns when they’re out looking for girls? That’d just scare ‘em off.” The guy glares at him like he’s given him a silly suggestion. “I gotta ask. Why’d you do it?”

Mingyu lifts his gaze. “What?”

“The Head’s lady. You knew it was her, she’s marked.” He taps on his tiger tattoo, the same one the woman had on her wrist.

Mingyu gives him a weak smile and delivers an answer he knows the man of his opponent’s standing will certainly approve of. “Have you seen her? What she’s got to offer between those thighs is a death worth dying.”

To his low expectations, his conversation opponent guffaws out an amused laugh. “You’re a crazy bastard, just like your father.”

The comparison might just be the worst insult the man can give him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry <3
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/_bloominsummer/status/1248649574354313216?s=20) | [cc](https://curiouscat.me/bloominsummer)


	7. Ch. 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You love me?"
> 
> "Took you long enough."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for Chapter 7: mild violence, guns, mentions of drug use (hallucinogens).

Mingyu is parched, his throat is dry and every time he swallows it feels like his oesophagus is all scratched up inside, mangled. The situation has changed recently, though he’s not sure what exactly happened. The men are treating them differently now and it’s for the worse. 

They haven’t given him anything to drink for a while, a day or perhaps even longer. Threw a bucket of ice-cold water at Mingyu’s face, sure, but nothing more than that. A couple more hours and he’ll start hallucinating, that is if the pounding inside his head doesn’t knock him out cold first. He twists around to check on Jisoo but finds him hunched forward, unmoving. Mingyu concentrates hard, ignoring the fact that his brain is about to burst, then relaxes when he can hear Jisoo’s low breathing from the across the room.

Turns out the hallucinations come sooner than expected because fifteen minutes later he’s seeing _Wonwoo_. Wonwoo, with his sharp eyes and gentle voice, crouching in front of him and cradling his face in his warm albeit calloused hands. 

The image of Wonwoo tries to talk to him, mouth moving without any of the words registering to Mingyu at first. The one word that manages to push through the thick layer of haze Mingyu sees between the two of them is, “Gyu.”

Mingyu blinks. 

And blinks again.

And blinks one more time, for good measure. 

Wonwoo is still there, looking right at him, thumbs caressing Mingyu’s prominent cheekbone and the dried skin left from the scratch he got the night of his abduction.

He reels away from Wonwoo as if seeing his face is a great offence and not a sweet blessing. “I sent you away!”

“I have to protect you,” Wonwoo answers him with a pleased smile on his face; like he’s glad there’s still enough strength left in Mingyu to pick up a fight with him the moment he sees the older. “It’s my job.”

There are so many questions running through his head, all of them making his headache worse than it already is. _How_ can Wonwoo be here right now? How did he get in? Why… _why_ is he here?

_It’s my job,_ Wonwoo had just said. 

Mingyu’s heart constricts painfully inside his chest. He’s risking his life for Mingyu once again, all for the sake of a piece of paper he signed and handed over to Seungcheol. Which should have been voided the day Mingyu dismissed him, but _still_. Wonwoo is here.

“Is the contract all that you care about?” His voice suddenly doesn’t sound like his own. It’s as though he’s talking through a wind tunnel—all distorted.

“You’re an idiot if you actually think that.” Wonwoo carefully pats Mingyu’s body down to check his other injuries, sighing in relief when he finds none of consequence. “I don’t care about the contract.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Why do you think?”

“You love me?” Mingyu mocks him, jeering.

Instead of denying Mingyu’s words, Wonwoo just shoots him a toothy grin. “Took you long enough.”

He keeps his eyes on Wonwoo even though they’re starting to water. He’s afraid to blink now, afraid that once he does Wonwoo will disappear from in front of him and he’ll never get to see him again. Now that he’s got Wonwoo in his space, it hits him all at once how much he’s been missing the other man. Craving, _aching_ for him. It’s stupid of him to be like this for someone who’s lied to him for months and months, but that’s the irrefutable truth. 

God, please don’t let Wonwoo be as stupid as he is.

“Tell me you have a plan,” Mingyu demands, trying to move closer to Wonwoo and failing because of his bounds. “Tell me you brought backup. If not, Wonwoo, I will kill you _dead_ and I swear I will make it hurt.”

“Can’t hurt much worse than when you sent me away.” 

Wonwoo doesn’t try to pass it off as a joke; he’s simply being frank about it.

Mingyu gapes at him. This is not the time and place to have a conversation about their relationship or lack of thereof! Wonwoo must be off his rockers right now.

“Your brother’s on his way,” Wonwoo’s hands grip his shoulders, which instantly sag in relief when the words sink in. “I’m the battering ram, I have to go make sure your escape route is cleared.”

He hates it. Why is this the way things always play out with Wonwoo? Just as Mingyu thinks there’s hope… it dies off too quickly. Seems like his nightmare is coming true, after all. 

“You’re leaving.”

_I was the one you told you to, but now I don’t want you to go. Never again. I’ll beg if you want me to. Just stay._

“Mingyu,” Wonwoo’s deep voice compels his attention. "Look at me. You’ll be fine.”

Despite the scar Wonwoo left on his heart, despite all the lies, despite the betrayal that had cut him deep—despite it all, Mingyu breathes out, “I’m not worried about me, you stupid imbecile.”

The black-haired man kisses him. It's slippery, the slide of their mouths against each other's. Mingyu can taste the metal tang of blood on Wonwoo’s lips—he’s not sure which one of them is bleeding—but it’s been weeks since he last had this emotion the older effortlessly invokes inside him and it feels infinitely better than freedom. Then Wonwoo’s gone, slinking into the darkness of the hall outside.

Mingyu tries calling out to Jisoo, but after awhile his throat starts hurting badly and there’s still no response from the other side of the room, so he stops his attempts. 

The door creaks open again barely five minutes since Wonwoo’s left and Mingyu feels all the muscles in his body tense. The face he sees entering the door quietly is a familiar one, but to his surprise, it isn’t Seungcheol. The young man spares him a glance, seemingly torn between going to him or Jisoo first. Mingyu definitely looks soberer and more likely to respond to him if he’s to ask questions—

They lock eyes. The man makes his decision.

“Jisoo-yah,” Jeonghan kneels in front of his lover. “Jisoo-yah, please, open your eyes. Please.”

At this, Jisoo seems to regain enough consciousness to croak out a helpless, “Hannie?”

“Oh, thank God,” the blond breathes out in relief.

“What are you doing here? Hannie? _What are you—_ ”

Seungcheol bursts through the door right then, a bloodied combat knife in his hand. His first instinct is to point it at Jeonghan and Mingyu sees Jisoo’s eyes flicker with wild panic.

“ _Cheollie,_ ” he chokes out. 

Mingyu knows he’s about to beg Seungcheol not to end Jeonghan’s life right there and then, because they’re smack in the middle of the Kwon’s headquarters and there are only two possible explanations to Jeonghan being here. One, he’s a member of the Kwon group, and therefore the enemy. Two, he's somehow involved in this mess without being a member of their group, which means he is essentially the enemy. Neither of the two options is pretty.

He tries to move his body forward, a futile attempt of shielding Jeonghan from Seungcheol’s impending wrath. To both Jisoo and Mingyu’s surprise, Seungcheol flips the knife in his hand and offers it to Jeonghan handle first. 

“Cut the ties around his neck and feet.”

Jeonghan nods. “What about his hands?”

“He’ll have to run with it,” decides Seungcheol after giving it a quick glance. He makes his way to Mingyu. “It’s a wrap and cinch double column. The knife will take too long.”

“Right.” He hears Jeonghan say, then Seungcheol is crouching in front of him, pulling out another knife from his left boot. The sharp end of his knife is pointed toward Mingyu.

Not having enough brain capacity to even begin processing what’s happened in the last sixty seconds, Mingyu just offers Seungcheol the best smirk he can conjure up. 

“Hi, big brother.”

“Troublemaker,” Seungcheol bites back, shaking his head at Mingyu to show his disapproval.

“Cheollie, why is Hannie here?”

The desperate edge to Jisoo’s question is impossible to ignore. It’s gut-wrenching to hear him like this—he’s talking as if Jeonghan is using the knife in his hand to stab him in the heart instead of to set him free.

Seungcheol’s eyes darken for a moment, but he gives Jisoo no response. His next words form a question directed at Mingyu. “What did they give him?”

“Some hallucinogen, I think, the last one about twelve hours ago. The shock he’s in is from seeing…” Mingyu chooses his next word carefully, finally settling with, “Jeonghan.”

The fact that Jisoo’s only mentioned Jeonghan's nickname so far doesn’t fly over Seungcheol’s head. Now he knows that Mingyu has been aware of Jeonghan’s existence long before tonight. His expression changes, quick but not quick enough for Mingyu to miss it, then he slips back into a mask of practised neutrality.

He must have decided to deal with this later. For now, they have to make it out of here with all of their limbs intact. Mingyu’s mind wanders to Wonwoo, if he’s managed to do what he’s supposed to do, if he’s not too badly hurt in the process. 

Jisoo’s voice breaks him out of his reverie. “ _Cheollie_.” 

“Jeonghan,” Seungcheol calls instead. 

“Yeah.”

“You love me?”

Mingyu thinks Jeonghan will take a moment to consider this odd, out-of-place question, but his eyes remain fixed on the rope, one hand holding Jisoo’s ankle gently and the other one curled around the knife’s handle, and he doesn’t miss a beat before he answers, “Always.”

“You love Jisoo?”

Jeonghan looks over at Seungcheol at that, the determination in his eyes growing. “ _Always_.”

“Give your vest to him.”

Jeonghan takes his shirt off without any hesitation, revealing a dark vest underneath it. But the thing that captures Mingyu’s attention is the police badge hanging from a chain around his neck. 

From the clumsy way he was fumbling with the knife, Mingyu had hoped Jeonghan’s presence just meant Seungcheol’s acting recklessly again, as he always does. Dragging a civilian into their problems in the name of love and all that. Though that would mean putting Jeonghan in the line of fire, Jisoo will forgive him for it as long as Jeonghan makes it out alive, and as far as Mingyu could see, he only has a mean-looking cut on his jaw up to this point.

But with the appearance of the badge… Mingyu’s hope is instantly diminished.

Jisoo seems to notice the consequential item, too, because he’s staring at Jeonghan with his mouth open, forcing his swollen eye open as far as he can manage. 

Turns out it is option two, after all. To make matters worse, he’s with the authorities. The ultimate enemy, so to speak.

“His hands—”

“Force it underneath,” Seungcheol says, curt. “No time.”

He finally gets Mingyu out of his bounds and the younger flexes his wrists, the angry marks around them a beautiful shade of purple.

“Where’s my bulletproof vest?” Mingyu asks Seungcheol, still shell-shocked from Jeonghan’s revelation.

Clucking his tongue, Seungcheol shakes his head in disagreement. “Naughty boys don’t get one.”

Mingyu’s about to voice his protest. It was Jisoo’s attempt to mend his supposed broken heart that got them into this situation, Mingyu didn’t even want to leave the house in the first place! But he knows it’s futile trying to convince Seungcheol that Jisoo can do any wrong, so the only thing he does in response to Seungcheol’s remark is to jut his chin out in defiance.

His brother pulls out a gun from his back and hands it to Mingyu, who instantly recognises it as Wonwoo’s. There’s no mistaking that purplish handle anywhere.

“He thought you’d like it,” Seungcheol tells him, wiggling the gun in his hand when Mingyu fails to take it from him. From the other side of the room, Jeonghan discards the rope holding Jisoo to the side. “As a precaution. Don’t aim it at me.”

“I can shoot straight,” he grumbles. “Wonwoo taught me.”

He grabs the gun from Seungcheol’s hand and it weirdly feels like Wonwoo’s guiding his grip around it.

☆

They got out. By some miracle, they got out.

Wonwoo was waiting for them at the back of the warehouse, a couple of unconscious men on his feet, gagged and bounded the same way Mingyu had been. Wonwoo had reached out a hand to him the moment he laid eyes on Mingyu, an offer which the younger instinctively took. The five of them limped through the darkness and navigated themselves with extreme caution across the Kwon's’ territory until they got right to the border. Seungcheol then led the way to one of the safe houses that Mingyu possessed no knowledge of and he’s lost for a moment until he realised that that’s the whole point.

Tonight, they’re not associated with one group or another. They’re just men trying to hold on to their lifelines. Jeonghan and Seungcheol to Jisoo and Mingyu… Mingyu to Wonwoo.

Once they’re in front of the building, Mingyu hears Seungcheol lets out a string of curses. He looks up to follow the prompt of such harshness and sees that the lock to the place has been broken.

“They’ve searched the place,” says Wonwoo, calm as a river. “At least that means they’re unlikely to circle back around. The men are spread thin as it is.”

Seungcheol punches the wall next to the door.

“Cheollie,” calls Jeonghan, arms tightening around Jisoo. “He can’t walk much further in this condition.”

“We have to wait it out here.” Wonwoo supports his cause. He nods to Jeonghan once, a respectful gesture. “We’ll move in an hour or so, Seungcheol.”

The eldest of the group glances at the former bodyguard over his shoulder before he decides that Wonwoo’s making enough sense. He pushes his way through the door and holds it open for Jeonghan to follow. Wonwoo tugs Mingyu by the hand, pulling the younger to come with him as he too makes his way inside.

It all happens so fast. One moment they’re inside, safe and sound, and Wonwoo’s telling him to sit down on a dusty old armchair in the corner of the room as to not put pressure on his legs. Jisoo is turning in Jeonghan’s hold, seemingly moving to embrace the man, but before they know it, his hand aims right for Jeonghan’s belt.

He practically rips the gun away from his lover and takes a couple of steps back, putting some distance between the two of them. Wonwoo immediately moves to the centre of the room, trying to diffuse the tension, but Seungcheol beats him to it.

“Jisoo.” 

His hyung’s voice is soft, soothing. Mingyu has never heard him spoke with such caution. Jisoo’s hand remains firm on the gun, he keeps it aimed right between Jeonghan’s eyes. His index finger curls dangerously around the trigger. 

One slip and that’ll be his first kill ever.

Silently, Mingyu prays for this to end without anyone dying. Wonwoo saved him from crossing that line once, Seungcheol will surely manage to stop Jisoo this time. 

“You lied to me.” Jisoo’s voice wavers, shaky in contrast to his rigid posture.

Jeonghan, to his credit, has the courage to reply, “The same way you lied to me.”

Mingyu thinks he’s either brave or crazy to say throw that challenge with a gun pointed at him. Then again, to be a police officer and involved with Choi Seungcheol at the same time, he _has_ to be a bit of both. No other possible explanation for it.

“I did that to protect you,” Jisoo spats angrily, “What’s your fucking excuse?”

Mingyu’s never seen him this livid. Actually, he’s never seen Jisoo raise his voice, for that matter. He’s always been kind and gentle as long as memory serves. To be fair to him, he supposes Jisoo’s never felt as hurt as he is right now. A betrayal that comes from the person you love the most is never an easy pill to swallow. 

He glances at Wonwoo.

“I love you, Joshuji.” It’s so gentle, the way he’s speaking. Even more gentle is the use of the intimate nickname, derived from his birth name. To Mingyu, it feels like he’s telling Jisoo: _it’s okay_. “Losing you would drive me as mad as Achilles was when he lost Patroclus. Remember that story? You were the one who told me about it.”

His words have the opposite effect to what Mingyu imagined, because the next thing Jisoo does is move forward all the way until there is no distance left between the barrel of the gun and Jeonghan’s forehead. Seungcheol automatically takes a step in their direction, but Jeonghan holds a palm out to him. 

“It’s okay. Cheollie, it’s okay. I love you. Always. Jisoo is safe. You’ll do well to protect him once this is all done.”

“Go on,” he tells Jisoo then. From where he’s standing, Mingyu sees nothing but love and resolution reflected in Jeonghan’s eyes. “Do what you have to.”

The policeman slowly goes down to his knees and closes his eyes, as if allowing Jisoo to carry out the deed. Seungcheol lunges, too quick for Mingyu, he’s always been too quick for Mingyu, because he grabs Wonwoo’s gun from Mingyu’s hand.

And tucks it underneath his own chin.

“I lied to you, too.”

Now, Mingyu has doubts that Jisoo would ever pull the trigger. Seungcheol, however, is an entirely different case. He’s always had one screw loose in the head ever since they were young boys. Wonwoo steps in front of Mingyu, probably protecting him from a stray bullet or fragments or brain matter, but he stops trying to step in. His head is turned in Seungcheol’s direction, anticipating his next move.

The air is thick with tension as Jisoo turns to look at Seungcheol with an overwhelming amount of despair in his eyes, it physically hurts Mingyu to witness it. Wonwoo tenses in front of him, too, so Mingyu rests a calming hand on his hip. Despite the current palpable tension in the room, Mingyu knows it’ll play out well in the end. These people love each other so much they’re willing to die for one another. 

It will be okay.

“Enough.” Jisoo’s voice cracks, broken. "That’s enough.” He lowers his hand and kneels in front of Jeonghan, putting the gun on the ground next to them. He takes the blond’s face in his hands and slants his mouth over Jeonghan’s. 

The kiss isn’t drawn out, it doesn’t grow deep— but God, Mingyu wants nothing more but to be kissed with such intensity that there won’t be any space left to doubt the other’s feelings toward him. They part after a moment. Jisoo caresses the cut under the side of Jeonghan’s jaw. Then, without looking at him, he extends a hand to Seungcheol.

His brother rushes forward to take Jisoo’s hand, pushing the gun his boyfriend was holding away with Wonwoo’s until both are sliding across the floor, stopping midway between where the three lovers are now huddled and Mingyu and Wonwoo are standing. 

Wonwoo relaxes.

Mingyu squeezes his hip gently and walks away to finally take a seat on the chair.

☆

After Jisoo’s calmed down enough, Seungcheol explains the details of his well-conceived plan to the most clueless person in the room: Mingyu. Wonwoo had suspected parts of it—he admitted to doing his homework on Seungcheol upon being offered the job by him—so he nodded along to some of the information Seungcheol is relying to them. Jisoo is almost as oblivious as Mingyu is, but he’s bound to know more about Seungcheol’s actions because he’s more attuned to his boyfriend’s moods and whereabouts.

It’s not a flawed strategy, per se. Their father had instilled so much fear in them, pulling leverages over their heads using the people they love most—he’d never have thought Seungcheol nor Mingyu would betray him so explicitly. Collaborating with the police, leaking important group documents that can lead to his persecution and downfall. If anyone else had told Mingyu this, if he hadn’t heard the words straight from the horse’s mouth, he wouldn’t have believed it. 

There’s even a _body count_ , for God’s sake. People thought to have done the things Seungcheol actually did. They were executed in a public manner within their group and his brother was there to witness it all, standing next to their old man with his head held high.

Mingyu never saw him waver. Not even once. Seungcheol, just as Mingyu did, looked right into those men’s eyes in the moments leading up to their deaths. They weren’t good men, but they were still people. 

Though it comforts him to know that Jisoo has someone truly devoted to him and the prospect of keeping him alive, he has to admit that Seungcheol’s love—how deep it seems to run—absolutely terrifies him.

“You wanted to turn him in,” Mingyu says lowly at the conclusion of Seungcheol’s narration.

Seungcheol gives him a look Mingyu can’t be bothered to try to decipher. Then he confirms Mingyu’s suspicion. “Yes.”

“He’ll just rule from the inside, hyung. You know this.”

“Then I’ll kill him myself if it comes down to that.”

“Why take the chance?” A voice that wasn’t there before pipes from behind them. “I’ll take the killing shot.”

Four guns are drawn the air in an instant. One of Jeonghan’s, another one of Mingyu’s, then one on each of Wonwoo’s hand. Those, plus Seungcheol’s combat knives. 

Jihoon steps out of the shadows, the light illuminating his pale skin makes him look… ethereal. If that sight alone isn’t enough to give Mingyu a cardiac exercise, another figure soon emerges from the darkness behind him. 

He knows that face. It belongs to Kwon Soonyoung.

“Hello, friends. I’ve come to propose a deal.”

Mingyu’s never heard him speak before, for the other man had remained silent for the entirety of their meeting. He’d never imagine such a dangerous man would have such a sweet, soothing lilt to match his infamous traits. 

“Nice to see you alive, Wonu.”

It takes Mingyu a second to register who _Wonu_ is, and when he does the takes a step backwards to put some distance between him and his former bodyguard. Kwon Soonyoung smiles at his reaction. Mingyu finds the same dangerous gleam in his eyes that Wonwoo has— it is as though they were cut out from the same cloth. 

“You’ve made quite a mess,” Wonwoo says calmly. 

His gun is lowered, Mingyu can’t help but notice. Wonwoo never lets his guard down around people he doesn’t fully trust, it took him _months_ to even open up to Mingyu. It becomes obvious to him that this isn’t the first time Wonwoo has met Kwon Soonyoung.

“I thought you’d rather enjoy the show. A little flair for the dramatic.”

“Someone clue me in to what is happening here before I throw this knife at the heir of the Kwon group,” Seungcheol speaks out, less calmly than Wonwoo had.

“He’s no longer the heir,” Jisoo answers him, pointing at the man in front of them. “The ring.” 

Kwon Soonyoung lifts his right hand in the air on cue. The single bulb of light in the room shines on his family ring, white gold that sits heavily on his index finger. “My father died tonight. Let’s skip the fake niceties and say that no one in this room would miss him.”

His brother takes a step forward, unconsciously placing himself in front of Jisoo and Jeonghan. To protect them, Mingyu realises.

“If you’re here to put his death on us—”

“No, he isn’t,” Wonwoo interjects, though somehow he manages to do it with respect. “His dad’s been dying for some time now. He passed away from _natural causes_ , I assume?”

The man he addresses tips his head forward in confirmation.

“Still as sharp as a sword, Wonu,” Kwon Soonyoung comments.

Mingyu’s tongue finally uncurls at yet another mention of this special nickname he has for Wonwoo. “Why’d you say it like that?” he asks his former bodyguard.

To his displeasure, the one who answers his question is the Kwon group’s new leader. 

“His mistress poisoned him and made it look like his liver is failing. The old man’s been drinking since he was in the crib, so no one questioned it.” 

A crime of passion—not a befitting death for such a man.

“The mistress you slept with,” he points out after, entirely too cheeky for Mingyu’s liking. They’re not friends, yet Kwon Soonyoung is treating him as if they were. “Oops, _almost_ slept with.”

Wonwoo shakes his head, but Mingyu sees it’s as a rather fond gesture. “And I assume you handed her the poisoned chalice?”

“I gave her Chan’s address. Remember when he used to be this cute boy who follows us around the dojang?” Wonwoo maintains his silence at the question. “Of course you don’t. You’ve gotten used to seeing him as an adult.”

Chan.

Mingyu’s sure he’s heard that name somewhere before. He racks his brain as the conversation continues around him, all of those different voices melting into one big noise in the background as he searches every nook and cranny of his memory, everything Wonwoo’s ever told him about himself. 

Then, an epiphany. 

Chan is Wonwoo’s brother’s… friend? Was it friend? The same friend Seungkwan mentioned to him that one night.

There’s something going on between Wonwoo and Kwon Soonyoung that Mingyu has no knowledge of, and it ticks him off. Wonwoo hides many secrets from him, but after the thing with Seungcheol… Mingyu assumed he’s faced the worst. Perhaps that isn’t the case. Perhaps something that will unravel tonight is even worse than what has previously come to light. 

Mingyu cuts through the flow of conversation with an authoritative tone. “What were you proposing?”

All eyes are on him in an instant, whatever topic they were discussing immediately abandoned at his question.

“Oh, yes!” Kwon Soonyoung claps his hands once, presenting himself like an excited child. “The merger.”

“Absolutely no way.”

Jihoon clucks his tongue in disappointment while Soonyoung’s mouth curls into a pout. A sulking tiger is still a tiger. “Hear me out first, Kim Mingyu-ssi.”

With a reluctant nod, Mingyu allows him to continue. 

Kwon Soonyoung beams, child-like, ill-fitting to his image and the gun tucked safely in the belt holster around his waist. He launches into a speech, one Mingyu thinks he’s prepared beforehand from the way he presents it: precise and assured. It’s almost as if he can look into the future and he’s already known how this will play out, which is to say in his favour. 

Mingyu feels Jihoon’s eyes glued to his figure, gauging even the smallest of his reactions to the plan Kwon Soonyoung is laying out in front of him. It’s nerve-wracking, knowing for the first time since he met Jihoon, the older man might not be in his corner after all. He came walked into the room with their group’s opposition, that is a fact Mingyu can’t ignore.

Across the room from him, Seungcheol is putting Kwon Soonyoung under the same scrutiny. One glance and Mingyu knows the gears in his head are turning, analysing the Kwon group leader’s words and reading between the lines, trying to determine if he has any ulterior motives for offering to go through with the merger Mingyu had stuck his neck out to end.

When Kwon Soonyoung’s explanation comes to an end, Mingyu beats Seungcheol into giving a response. 

“I don’t trust you.”

“Well, for you to trust me, I have to earn it, don’t I? How am I supposed to do that while we stay foes?” 

Mingyu doesn’t have an answer for him. Soon enough, Kwon Soonyoung gets tired of waiting for one.

“Oh for fuck’s sake. Okay, here,” Kwon Soonyoung hands him the gun on his belt. “Shoot me in the head, take _my_ territories and kill all my men because you know they _will_ try to avenge me. After you burn all the dead bodies, _then_ you can finally have a fresh start.”

He stares at him blankly, eyes moving from Kwon Soonyoung’s slanted ones down to the gun in his grip. 

Then he lifts up the gun.

Wonwoo should be proud of his stance; the hours spent teaching Mingyu how to deal with his long limbs properly has now manifested in the way he’s holding himself.

To his left, Jihoon repositions himself and aims two of his guns at Mingyu, lacking hesitation. Exactly how many people in his life has no problem of killing him in one way or another?

He hears Wonwoo sighs heavily before he too drags his weapon up. Points it at Jihoon, who simply smirks like he knows Wonwoo isn’t a real threat to him. That’s the first time anyone’s ever had such a reaction to Wonwoo pulling out his gun on them. 

Mingyu waits for another response, but Jihoon doesn’t move. He’s rooted to his spot, keeping both guns on Mingyu instead of shifting one of them in Wonwoo’s direction. His knowing smirk grows beyond taunting. He definitely understands that to Wonwoo, Mingyu at the end of his muzzle is a worse prospect than his own demise. Lee Jihoon with a single gun doesn’t miss his target. With two, he might be able to take out half the room before Wonwoo can put an end to him—which looks like something his former bodyguard is unwilling to do unless forced. 

If he wants to shake Wonwoo’s foundation, he only needs to leverage Mingyu’s life against him.

“The alternative I bring to the table involves much less bloodshed,” Kwon Soonyoung tries to drive a bargain. 

Mingyu drags his eyes away from Jihoon to look at him. 

“We’ll get rid of the drugs, we’ll get rid of the prostitution rings, but we’ll keep the guns. We need to keep the guns, because if we’re left without protection the vultures will come and take all of us out. I’m tired of burying people. Aren’t you?”

A part of him wants to ask: _How about the gambling? The smuggling? The illegal loans?_ but he’s too tired, entirely too tired to even begin hashing out the details of this seemingly alluring deal. Seungcheol’s gaze meets his from behind Soonyoung’s shoulders and Mingyu feels the fight leaving his body in slow waves. He searches the tiger’s eyes, failing to find any hint of deceit.

“I need a drink.” Mingyu flips over the gun by the handle, returning it to its rightful owner. With this, he’ll buy himself some time to think it over, confer about it with Seungcheol. “I’ve just been held hostage for days.”

Soonyoung grins, accepting his acquiescence. “Go ahead. I have all night.”

☆

Jihoon is wiping his gun with a soiled rag, which Mingyu supposes beats the entire purpose of cleaning it in the first place, though he doesn’t vocalise this thought aloud in fear of being shot. 

“You and Kwon Soonyoung…” he trails off, unsure on how to proceed. With caution, for sure, but with what exact words?

The shorter man keeps on cleaning his gun as he replies to Mingyu, “Your father sent me to die on a mission because he thought I was weak for refusing to kill children for their parents’ sins.” 

Mingyu sucks in a breath. Out of all the horrible things he’s witnessed his father did or commanded others to do… he won’t put this atrocity above him. 

“He demanded loyalty without question, without hesitation. I refused. So I bled on the side of the road in the middle of Kwon’s territory after his men put six bullets in me.” 

Jihoon pauses. 

His gaze drifts over to the other side of the room, where Kwon Soonyoung is sitting in an old armchair, his head thrown all the way back and his eyes closed. He looks… serene, for a man who’s just inherited a crime syndicate. Tranquil, even. That’s a word Wonwoo would use to describe the expression Kwon Soonyoung is currently wearing.

“Soonyoung extracted them and nursed me back to health before he let me go. He said every man has to choose his own path and if I wanted to go back to my master I should.”

Mingyu recalls the few months gap a couple of years back when Jihoon failed to keep his scheduled contact with Mingyu, even missed a particular quarter’s meeting. He’d told him after that it was some intricate mission that took a while for him to complete, and Mingyu simply believed him since he didn’t think Jihoon had any reason to lie to him. That must be the time around which this incident happened.

“So I did.” Jihoon sets his mouth on a thin line, tamed anger in dripping from the tenor of his voice. “When he saw my face, he said, _Cockroaches die hard, don't they, Woozi?_ and I wanted to kill him right there and then, but I knew I had to bid my time.”

“Then you went back to him and became his spy?”

“I went back to Soonyoung to settle a debt,” he corrects Mingyu, not unkindly. “I told him he could ask me anything. A life for a life. I thought he was going to ask me to kill your father, that’ll give me a good reason to do so.”

Mingyu wants to know— he has no personal knowledge of the man, but maybe questioning Jihoon will give him an insight into Kwon Soonyoung’s personality. The insight he needs if he’s to make a decision that might change his and others’ lives forever.

“Did he?”

“No.” Shaking his head, Jihoon tosses the rag aside so he can address Mingyu properly. “He told me to get out of Seoul. Out of Korea, if I can. Threw a bag of money at my face. When I walked out of his place, his father’s men spotted me. Right at the door. Soonyoung eliminated them.”

“That’s a lot to risk for someone whom he barely knows.”

Jihoon’s expression turns distant, as if he’s remembering something that happened in a past life. Then, he lets Mingyu in on another one of Wonwoo’s secret he wouldn’t have found out from the man himself.

“I used to train with him. At the dojang. Him, Wonwoo, and I. We’re the same age, you know. We were in the same group.”

He tries to hide his surprise, though it must have materialised on his face one way or another.

“Until you weren’t.”

A sad smile on Jihoon’s chapped lips. “Until we weren’t.” He tucks his gun away. “You’ve always been good to me, Mingyu. You never treated me like I was scum.”

Mingyu softens at his words and their quiet delivery. Looking at Jihoon’s slumped shoulders, he’s reminded of the fact that the other man is at most two years older than him. Already he’s got so much blood in his hands, and unlike Mingyu’s, his aren’t strictly metaphorical. Jihoon didn’t have the luxury to choose his life— neither did Mingyu, but he supposes he got the better end of the stick. 

“You weren’t. You aren’t.”

“Do what you want to do,” Jihoon pats him on the upper arm once as he walks past him on the way over to Soonyoung. “As long as you let Soonyoung walk out of this place alive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [<3](https://twitter.com/_bloominsummer/status/1251181581303087105?s=21)
> 
> i got a series of interesting questions in my cc that might be of some interest to you [here](https://curiouscat.me/bloominsummer/post/1084540675), if there's anything else you want me to clear up pls let me know!!! hihi


	8. Ch. 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Tell me if anything hurts."
> 
>  **Everything hurts**.
> 
> "Okay," Mingyu answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings of Chapter 8: descriptions of violence and premeditated murder.

Wonwoo appears next to the chair he’s sitting on and hands him his third bottle of water of the night. Everyone is trying to keep him hydrated as if they expect him to do all the talking afterwards. Mingyu still doesn’t understand why such a burden befalls him, he knows for a certainty that he didn’t ask for any of it.

“Accept Soonyoung’s offer.”

Mingyu gulps down the water in his mouth before he asks Wonwoo, “Why do you trust him so much?”

_Tell me. Just tell me the truth for once_.

“I don’t.” Wonwoo averts his gaze from Mingyu. He’s lying again. Why does he even bother looking away? Mingyu can barely read anything from his eyes anyway. “I just think he has more to lose here. He could have walked in here with more men, but he only brought one. If he wanted us dead, we’d be dead.”

That all sounds true if not for the fact that one Lee Jihoon is equal to an entire cavalry of men. Wonwoo surely knows this, but he still speaks as though Jihoon presents no imminent danger to their wellbeings at the moment. It seems that he possesses information that he doesn’t plan on sharing with the rest of the class. 

It’s Wonwoo’s usual way of conduct: an intricate web made of secrets and lies. Honestly, the act is getting a little too old and a lot too tiresome. Mingyu wants to be done with it. He can’t handle any more deceits, he _won’t_. 

Enough is enough.

Yet—

“Gyu,” Wonwoo calls, and Mingyu’s heart melts along with his resistance. The nickname still feels so familiar, so natural rolling off the older’s tongue. He can’t even tell Wonwoo off for using it without permission. “Accept it.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“It has to be Seungcheol,” Mingyu decides, speaking the words into existence and hoping it will take hold in reality. “I… I don’t want this. I never wanted it.”

Wonwoo looks down at him, understanding passing over his features. “Okay.”

“That easy?”

He laughs a little at the absurdity of the situation. As hard as he tries, he might not be able to escape the weight anchoring him down to this life, but Wonwoo answers him as though he could ensure his freedom. As though he’ll do everything in his power to see it through. Mingyu finds himself wanting to believe in that so badly, but he’s trusted Wonwoo once before, and it ended with him burying his broken sobs into the pillow that still smelled like Wonwoo’s fruity shampoo.

“Yes. You do what you want, leave the rest to me.”

Mingyu returns his gaze and finds the determination in Wonwoo’s eyes inexorable. 

Wonwoo looks like he’s about to reach out and caress Mingyu’s face, a touch Mingyu will welcome, but before he has a chance to, Seungcheol and Jeonghan appear next to him and asks for time to talk to Mingyu. Wonwoo leaves the brothers alone with one last lingering look thrown in Mingyu’s direction.

☆

“We’ll put him in jail.” 

Soonyoung nods. “Then you have to prepare for when he breaks out of it.”

“Not if we put him in the right jail,” Jeonghan supplies, backing Seungcheol up. Supporting him. “The man who killed Cheollie’s mother, he won’t be swayed by anything Kim Jaewook has to say. He’ll kill him without a second thought. He has nothing to lose, he’s already serving a double life sentence.”

The idea is pretty twisted. Seungcheol is essentially letting the same man take both of his parents away for him, one being the price for the other. His brother seems unbothered by it and even though Mingyu knows he had put all the blame of his mother’s death on their father, the situation is still very unsettling to him. From the way Wonwoo’s eyebrows are taut as he concentrates on the plan, he’s obviously not the biggest fan of the idea either.

“And if he doesn’t?”

“Then it’s free rein for…” the blond trails off, eyes flitting to the smallest yet probably the most dangerous figure in the room. “Woozi?”

“Jihoon,” corrects Soonyoung, gentle for a second. He seems to catch himself in the middle of lowering his guard down and his expression hardens again. “How do I know I can trust the police not to be bribed into letting him disappear? Once he’s off the grid, it’ll be difficult to track him down.”

Jeonghan has prepared for this question during the discussion with Mingyu and Seungcheol earlier. He gives Soonyoung the answer they agreed upon. 

“I’ll manage the transfer myself.”

Soonyoung remains sceptical to the response, but this reaction is to be expected. Jeonghan is a complete wild card here. Seungcheol’s kept his existence and identity so well-hidden, Soonyoung probably hasn’t had enough time to gather information on him to decide whether he’s trustworthy or not. Trustworthy enough carry out this task, at the very least.

“My question remains: how do I know I can trust you? You broke into my residence just hours ago and incapacitated my men. No offence, but I don’t know you.”

Wonwoo shifts next to Mingyu. “Do you trust him?” he speaks into Mingyu’s ear. So quiet, a low murmur. 

Not trusting himself to be able to maintain the same volume, Mingyu angles his face to meet Wonwoo’s eyes and gives him a firm nod. _I do_.

“I’ll vouch for Jeonghan. Ten bullets,” Wonwoo says firmly, not taking his eyes off of Mingyu.

Soonyoung’s gaze lazily flicks from Jeonghan to Wonwoo. There’s amusement in his features, something akin to wonder— like he expects this scenario to play out but is still surprised that it has finally come to this. 

“You know what that means, Wonu. Are you sure you want to be doing this?”

Wonwoo’s confirmation, a clear and resonant “Yes,” comes at the same time as Mingyu’s unsteady “What?”

“It means if he’s wrong I’ll shoot him ten times,” Soonyoung explains. He looks a little bit bored already. “Wherever I want.”

Mingyu’s heart hammers against his ribs at Soonyoung's words, at the implications they have, at the prospect of Wonwoo’s beautiful dark orbs closing for one last time, never to open again. 

_He likes to clear the round. Have you heard?_

It’s almost ironic how Mingyu didn’t trust Wonwoo with Jeonghan’s life when he first learned about the man’s existence, and now Wonwoo’s placing his life in Jeonghan’s hands. He knows that it’s really _his_ hands Wonwoo’s choosing to believe in, but that brings a whole other whirlwind of emotions entirely and he doesn’t have the capacity to process any of it right now.

So Mingyu straightens his back and looks right into Kwon Soonyoung’s sharp eyes. 

“I’d like to see you try.” 

He expects Soonyoung to harsh out something about killing him too, but what he gets is a fond smile. Soonyoung’s eyes disappear into slits. “Cute.” Head tilted to the right. “I see the appeal, Wonu. You’ve always been soft for his type.”

Wonwoo chooses not to reply to him.

“Can it be done?” Soonyoung continues. 

It takes Mingyu a moment to realise who he’s talking to.

“Yes,” answers Jihoon, who’s been otherwise quiet throughout the discussion. “If the policeman does what he says he would.”

“And what are the chances of things going south?”

Jihoon’s eyes find Mingyu’s. “High stakes.”

“What would happen then?”

“Postponement of some plans while I track him down, a slight hitch in the timeline,” he turns to face Soonyoung. “I’ll get it done as soon as possible, you know this.”

“Then give me a good reason not to just let you take the shot tonight.”

Once again, he’s still talking to Jihoon and no one else but him. To some extent, Mingyu is glad that Soonyoung seems to value Jihoon’s opinions and insights— perhaps even as much as the reverse is true. At least he knows Jihoon’s abilities are not being exploited as he had worried they would be. 

“Every man should be allowed to deal the cards when it comes to their life-long tormentor.” 

Soonyoung holds Jihoon’s gaze intently as he listens to his words, a silent understanding passing between the two of them. The words must mean something more than what they seem on the surface, because to Mingyu it’s a sentence like any other, but to Soonyoung it is enough to move his stance from one side to another.

“Very well. We shall proceed with your plan.” Soonyoung clasps his hands together and marches on to the next item on the agenda. “And the merger?” He looks at Mingyu expectantly.

“I’m the wrong person to talk to about that.”

He gets a nod in return for his answer, like Soonyoung’s predicted this turn of events right from the beginning. The heavy gaze shifts from him and lands on Seungcheol. 

“Well?”

Seungcheol glances at Mingyu, who gives him a small nod. _I’m with you_.

“One condition.”

Right as they’ve talked about.

“Let’s hear it.” Soonyoung grins, baring his rows of sharp teeth. 

“You’re not touching our sister.”

The grin falters and Soonyoung throws a quick look at Jihoon, as if to gauge his reaction. Not that there’s anything to see there, for Jihoon’s face remains impassive still.

“I know the original deal is to solidify this merger through marriage, but I’m telling you right now, that’s not what’s going to happen here.”

Throwing his hands up in the air, Soonyoung complains, “Why does everyone think I want something from them? Is it the face?” He’s not posing the question to anyone in particular, so it’s no surprise that he gets no answer in return. “Condition accepted, Choi. I’ve already got everything I need anyway.”

He extends a hand out toward Seungcheol, which the older doesn’t immediately take. Mingyu’s pulse stutters in anticipation. Seungcheol turns toward Jisoo, who gives him a smile, the softest one to grace his features tonight. Then he shifts his gaze to Jeonghan, who nods at him, blond hair falling into his eyes and framing his tired face. Seungcheol swallows before he takes Soonyoung’s hand, grip firm and the deal sealed. 

“Okay, now that that’s done. My allergies are going ballistic here.” Jisoo sneezes right on cue, proving his own point. “Can we wrap up?”

Jihoon’s laugh is the first reaction he gets for his question. 

The entire room stops breathing simultaneously, even Jisoo himself is caught off guard by his remarkable success in amusing Jihoon. Soonyoung looks like he just got the wind knocked out of his chest. His eyes are fixed on Jihoon with no indication they’ll ever be taken off the smaller man.

“What? That was funny.”

☆

“That was reckless.” Mingyu walks over to Wonwoo, stopping a couple of feet away from the other man. He shoves his hands in his pants’ pockets, though the left one is ripped, presumably from his previous hostage situation. 

They’re waiting for the streets to clear as Soonyoung calls off his men and Mingyu thinks it’s a good time as any to have this conversation with Wonwoo. Who knows? It might rain with bullets the moment they step out of the place and he’ll never get another chance at this.

Wonwoo straightens his back before he replies, “It’s a calculated risk. I did some digging into Jeonghan after that day at the cafe.” 

Not a good enough excuse for Mingyu. Nowhere near good enough. 

“On top of that, I trust your judgement.”

Ah. There it is, the real reason behind Wonwoo’s decision. Mingyu shakes his head in disbelief. The threat to Wonwoo’s life is _legitimate_. Soonyoung looks like a man of his words, a man whose reputation precedes him. And that reputation of his makes Mingyu’s skin crawl.

“The leader of the Kwon group just said he would shoot you ten times, but you don’t look the slightest bit worried.”

Wonwoo shrugs nonchalantly, completely unbothered by the intimidating recap of Soonyoung’s ultimatum. “If I die sometime soon, it won’t have anything to do with Soonyoung.”

“Slept with him, didn’t you?” asks Mingyu before he can stop his stupid mouth from throwing out the accusation.

The former bodyguard has the audacity to laugh at Mingyu’s inquiry, complete with his nose scrunch and all. “Is that the root of all your animosity towards him tonight? Jealousy?”

“There’s so much I don’t know about you.”

“Then ask.”

“How do I know you won’t lie to me?”

“I’ve never once lied to you.” Wonwoo looks right at him and somehow Mingyu knows he’s telling the truth for once. “I just don’t tell you things if you don’t ask them.”

“Okay,” Mingyu concedes to Wonwoo’s point. “So did you? Sleep with him?”

“Since we were old enough to understand what sex even means, the only person Soonyoung could get it up for is Jihoon.”

“Oh.” That does explain a lot of things Mingyu has been wondering about. It makes perfect sense. “But they…”

“Yeah. They’re not.” Wonwoo sounds a little regretful about the fact. He’s probably rooting for them quietly, by the sidelines, burdened by the knowledge he’s not one to do anything about the situation. “Soonyoung’s probably a virgin underneath all that blood and grime splattered on his record. Anything else about my previous sexual partners?”

“Not for now.”

Wonwoo nods. “Okay.”

“Do you love me?”

“Hopelessly,” Wonwoo affirms at once, not the slightest bit taken aback by the sudden inquiry.

Mingyu’s heart beats rapidly inside his chest, pulse running a good mile a minute.

“I’m scared.”

“Me too.”  The acknowledgement hits at the core of Mingyu’s being. He used to think of Wonwoo as someone fearless. What other adjective is there to describe a man who didn’t hesitate before jumping in front of a bullet? But here Wonwoo stands, in love with Mingyu and terrified of the fact.  “Wanna be scared together?”

Mingyu just has to know one thing. “Will you betray me again?”

A beat while Wonwoo thinks about his question. He settles with, “Probably, if it means saving your life.”

“Then just let me die,” Mingyu tells him. 

At least that option would hurt less.

“I can’t,” Wonwoo exhales heavily through his nose, like it physically pains him to refuse Mingyu’s plea. “I’m sorry. I’m selfish enough to want you to live, even if it means we can’t be together, even if it means you outlive me.”

When Wonwoo’s gaze lifts to meet his, there is an unspoken heaviness in the look they share. A burden both of them have chosen to shoulder together. Mingyu doesn’t give him a reply beyond looking into his eyes—right now, he doesn’t know how to deal with someone saying they love him so much, to the point that they are willing to sacrifice his own life to ensure he gets to keep his.

“Can you—do you think you can trust me again?"

He finds himself at an intersection. Mingyu gets to choose which way he wants to go from here on. When he sees Wonwoo in front of him, he knows that whichever way it is, he wants to have Wonwoo’s hand in his all the way to the end of the journey. But he also knows that getting there will take time. It won’t happen overnight—he has to heal first. Wonwoo has to let him heal first.

“I have one more question.”

The older man offers him a smile, a slight tugging of the right corner of his mouth. It doesn’t reach his eyes, although they are more expressive tonight than what Mingyu is used to seeing. Save for the night they had sex for the first time, when Wonwoo’s eyes told him everything he was feeling, he’s usually a master of controlling his expressions. 

“What is it?” 

Soft, lulling. 

“Can you come here and kiss me?”

Wonwoo returns his question with another one of his own. “For the last time?”

“No,” Mingyu shakes his head, unsure how to address that particular question. He still has some things to figure out before he can let Wonwoo in again. But right now, in this moment, he just wants Wonwoo’s lips on his, Wonwoo’s arms around him, Wonwoo’s scent filling his every inhale. 

“For… now.”

Wonwoo accepts what little Mingyu can offer him and closes the distance between them to kiss him gently and unhurried, mouth persistent but not rough on Mingyu’s, who tries hard not to smile into the act.

When they part, Mingyu rests his forehead against Wonwoo’s and fights the urge to stay there forever, caged in Wonwoo’s strong arms until he breathes his very last breath in this world. But before he has the chance to do as he wishes, Wonwoo entangles himself from him. 

“Come on, you need to go home.”

☆

The moment Mingyu steps through the door, a forehanded slap lands on his cheek, the force enough to snap his face sideways with a loud crack. Thankfully it’s not the side he took a punch to, or Mingyu would have reeled backwards and fallen on his ass from the pain. He stares at the wall for a moment in his shock, wonders why Wonwoo isn’t taking action.

“Don’t ever do that to me again,” comes Minyoung’s broken sob into his ears, then Mingyu is being pulled into a careful hug. “I thought you were _dead_.”

“I’m not.” Mingyu comforts his sister the best way he knows how: running his hand up and down her back soothingly, tangling his calloused fingers in her long brown locks. “I’m fine, really.”

She pulls away, her lips curled into a pout, flushed cheeks stained with tears. She looks just like their mother, the way Mingyu remembers her before her eyes sunk and her cheek hollowed. But in comparison to the ghost that their mother became during the last months of her life, Minyoung’s full of _life_. She lifts a hand to rub at her eyes and Mingyu notices she’s clutching something tightly in it, so he gently unwinds her grip from around the object. 

His eyes catch the printed writings on it quickly—it’s a train ticket out of town.

“Where are you going?” Mingyu asks stupidly.

“Wonwoo-oppa gave it to me before he left to find you. He told me to pack, just in case.” She nudges the suitcase next to the shoe rack with her foot. “I’m glad you’re not—that I don’t have to—”

Mingyu reels her back in, burying his face in the top of her precious head. “I’ll still be your annoying older brother even when we’re in our fifties, okay?”

God, he hopes so. He wants to see Minyoung grow up, fall in love, experience a heartbreak that doesn’t come from someone’s death, fall in love again and have it last this time around. He wants to see her have kids of her own if that’s what she wants, give her a chance of making her own family that isn’t ridden with sins passed on from generations to generations. If everything goes as planned, Minyoung can be free of all of this worldly restraints.

He feels Minyoung nods against his chest, which constricts painfully from the thought of having to leave her behind in any scenario. “Okay.”

“I don’t want to interrupt,” Wonwoo says in a tight voice. “But we shouldn’t stay here tonight.”

Knowing that Wonwoo makes a fair point, Mingyu nods at him in agreement. 

“Do you need anything before we go? I packed some essentials.”

“Yes.” Mingyu stares at him, hoping it’s sufficient to get his point across without having to vocalise it. “Take Minyoung first. I’ll be out in a second.”

That’s all Wonwoo needs before he’s hauling Minyoung’s suitcase out the door, holding it open for Minyoung to follow suit. Mingyu runs to his study and grabs the item of importance, the first one of many he stumbles across, the one Wonwoo used last time. Then he’s out of the house again without another glance, leaving the dark shadow of his past behind. 

He gets into the car wordlessly, the item tucked safely inside his jacket. Mingyu gladly lets Wonwoo take them to wherever he wants as he sits in the back of the car with Minyoung plastered to his side, their hands linked together.

Only when they arrive at a rather luxurious residential building, Mingyu finally asks, “What’s this place?” 

“It’s my apartment. You’ll be safe here.” There’s a beat. Wonwoo’s eyes find his through the rearview mirror. “For the night. We can strategise tomorrow. Princess needs her beauty sleep.”

Minyoung yawns on cue. All the crying must have worn her out and truth be told, Mingyu doesn’t have it in him to argue about this arrangement. He wants to take a long, hot shower, and surely Wonwoo’s apartment is one of the better places he could find to do just that tonight. 

Wonwoo parks the car in the underground lot wordlessly. Then he gets out of the car wordlessly. The older man does everything wordlessly until they’re inside his apartment, greeted by two cats, one calico and the other a tabby, both immediately snuggling up to his legs to welcome their owner home. 

And then Mingyu spots the young man sitting on the couch, looking over attentively at the newly arrived group. He pulls Minyoung behind him and taps Wonwoo by the shoulder once to get his attention.

“Hyung,” the stranger exhales in a low breath and it takes Mingyu a moment to connect the dots. 

“What are you doing here?” Wonwoo asks. The question isn’t harsh, there’s not one mean intention in his delivery, but his younger brother, _Seokmin_ , Mingyu successfully recalls, tenses from the inquiry anyway.

“Well, if your brother sent you a message saying,” he pulls his phone out of his pocket and starts reading in a monotonous voice, “‘ _My will is in the safe, you know the password’_ , you think it’s only rational to check on him, no?”

“I’m fine, Seok-ah. This is Mingyu,” Wonwoo gestures to him as he discards his jacket, “and Minyoung.”

Seokmin, who’s obviously been avoiding to acknowledge Mingyu’s presence in the room, finally looks at him for the first time since he walked into the apartment. 

“It’s nice to meet you both.”

Mingyu’s instincts tell him that Seokmin doesn’t mean a single word he just said, but he won’t put any blame on him for that. To him, Mingyu’s just the guy who not only got Wonwoo shot, but fucked him before tossing him aside like he meant nothing. Still, Wonwoo risked his life to rescue him from his abductors, knowing fully well he might not make it out alive. 

His text to Seokmin must’ve served as insurance.

A farewell without a goodbye. More or less the same as what he gave Minyoung long ago because it’s always easier that way. For all their contrasting differences, there are things about Wonwoo that Mingyu can understand and relate to.

“There’s a guest room at the end of the hallway,” Wonwoo says to Minyoung. “Bathroom’s in there, blankets in the closet.”

His sister nods in understanding, then she places a hand on Wonwoo’s shoulder to push herself up on her toes, delivering a soft kiss to his cheek. Mingyu knows the simple gesture conveys her immense gratitude. _Thanks for saving my idiotic brother_ , she’s probably trying to say.

Wonwoo turns to his brother once again.

“Will you show her the way?” 

From the way he’s talking, it’s more of a gentle command than a request. Minyoung has slim to none chances of getting lost or walking into the wrong room, but Seokmin nods his agreement and walks to her anyway. The tabby follows after him. The calico gives Mingyu a long, borderline judgmental look before it walks over to Seokmin.

Minyoung is about to pad down the hallways— “Wait,” Mingyu calls out to her.

She turns around, her brown locks sweeping the air as she does so. 

“Do you want me to sleep with you tonight?”

“How old do you think I am?” His sister stifles a laugh and continues to walk away from them. “Seven? No, oppa.”

Yup. The sweet sibling moment is gone down the drain, apparently, they’re back to their cat and mouse roles. Which is good. Mingyu won’t have it any other way.

“Sleep well, Princess,” Wonwoo speaks gently as Seokmin leads her away. Minyoung throws him a thumb up over her shoulders without looking back at them.

“Shower?” offers Wonwoo once she’s disappeared from their view.

Mingyu nods and lets Wonwoo guide him into the main bedroom.

☆

It’s only once he’s standing under the hot torrent of water that he realises Wonwoo might have meant to get him out of the way while he hashes things out with Seokmin outside. Mingyu suspects it's for the better, his presence in the room will probably only upset Seokmin even more, and for good reasons. When all this is done and things are settled, Mingyu will have to apologise to the young man. If anyone were to endanger Minyoung’s safety, he would have gone ballistic at them. Seokmin has all the rights to be furious.

After he washes off the dirt all over his body properly, Mingyu stands in front of the mirror and assesses himself. The swelling of his jaw has subsided—it hadn’t hurt the entire time he was speaking tonight—but if Mingyu applies some pressure on it the pain is still very much there. 

The bruise on his stomach’s much worse. It is now sporting a stupid colour of purple, though blotches of yellow are starting to appear around the middle. This one he decides not to apply any pressure on, he knows without a doubt it will hurt like hell. Mingyu ransacks Wonwoo’s medicine cabinet for pain-relieving gel, not at all surprised when he finally finds one almost depleted of its content. Mingyu empties the tube onto his palm and smears it over his abdomen, airing the area with his hand to partially dry the gel before he slips the borrowed shirt over his head. It fits him just fine, which means it must be oversized on Wonwoo.

Wonwoo, whom he finds dozing off on the bed in an upright sitting position when he walks out of the bathroom, back against the headboard and the thin-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. 

“Hey.” Mingyu nudges him by the shoulder and Wonwoo rouses. 

“Ah. Yeah.” Wonwoo blinks a couple of times to readjust to the room’s lighting. “You’re done? Come sit here,” he pats empty space beside him.

“Did your brother leave?” Mingyu glances toward the door, hesitant. “I could’ve taken the floor for all I care.”

“Figured it’s probably riskier for him to stick around. He has his own place after all.”

He goes to Wonwoo, his steps slow, his heartbeat rapid. 

Wonwoo rises and reaches toward his bedside table for the first aid kit. 

“Let me patch up your face,” he says in a way that lets Mingyu know he’s asking for permission.

Nodding, he gives it to Wonwoo wordlessly. Mingyu sits at the edge of the bed, soles of his feet planted on the cold marble floor below him, the sensation a tether to reality. He’s here, no longer taken captive, as safe as he could be within Wonwoo’s protection. It might be a mistake to trust him again so soon, without clearing the air about his previous hidden arrangement with Seungcheol, but tonight Mingyu can’t bring himself to care. 

There was a ticket out of town crumpled in Minyoung’s slender fingers. That has to be enough for now.

Wonwoo settles himself in between Mingyu’s legs, warmth radiating from his body, a scent signature to him wafting through the air. Mingyu fights the urge to pull him in by the back of his thighs and just let Wonwoo fall into him, body and soul, _everything_. He aches, _craves_ for him… but most of all, he just simply misses Wonwoo. Misses his touch, misses his mouth, misses the barbed words that come out of it when they’re having a heated argument. 

He misses Wonwoo in his space, occupying every nook and cranny of his consciousness, misses the way his face fits in between Mingyu’s thighs, buried there. 

Mingyu’s afraid.

If he grips too tightly at the man in front of him, Wonwoo might slip through his fingers instead. Like sand.

With a hand beneath his jaw, Wonwoo tilts his face up carefully until it’s angled the way he wants it to be.

“Tell me if anything hurts.”

_Everything hurts_. 

“Okay,” Mingyu answers.

He goes to work methodically, dabbing the cotton pad in his hand with antiseptic before dabbing it on the bruised parts of Mingyu’s face, the cracked corner of his mouth. Mingyu watches him silently, wonders how Wonwoo has been doing over the course of their separation. The prominence of his cheekbones seems to be heightened, so is the depth of his gaze. His forehead scrunches up as he concentrates at the task at hand and Mingyu’s heart constricts inside his ribs, asking to be ripped out and handed to Wonwoo immediately.

These hands, the ones framing his features ever so delicately, had just recently eliminated men off the face of the Earth for all Mingyu knows. They are deadly, they have always been deadly, and if they were to wrap around his neck right now Mingyu will join his mother sooner rather than later. At least he hopes when he goes he’ll go to a place where she is. 

But if Wonwoo’s hands were made to kill, why does Mingyu feel the most alive when his face is cupped in them?

The loud thoughts in his head drown him until Wonwoo’s finished patching him up, leaning away to hum in satisfaction at the end result of his work. Without another word, the older man walks away from the bed and begins undressing in the same room, exposing Mingyu to the heavenly sight of his back muscles rippling as he moves to fold his shirt before placing it in the washing basket by the door. 

“I’m going to clean up now,” Wonwoo says over his shoulders. “I feel nasty.”

He rummages inside his drawer for a towel and Mingyu is torn between looking away and continuing to watch him. He’s torn because in one hand he feels like he’s not meant to be seeing this domestic side of Wonwoo, but in the other, he hopes he’s the only one ever allowed to bear witness to this.

“Wonwoo.”

“Hm?” Wonwoo shrugs his pants off in one swift move, now dressed down to his boxers.

“Thank you.”

“There’s nothing to thank me for.”

“Minyoung, you were…” Mingyu recalls the train ticket. “You were going to get her away.”

Wonwoo turns to face him with a frown on his face, unsure of where this conversation going. 

“ Yes. I promised you I would.”

That, he did. Mingyu simply didn’t know he’d keep it.

“I don’t know,” he admits, drained out of the last of his energy reserve. His stomach hurts, his eyes are heavy. “I don’t know which parts of it were real. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise. I—” Wonwoo’s breath hitches. Mingyu thinks he’s never seen him quite like this. This vulnerable, this open, this… yielding. “It was real. All of it was real.”

“Since when?”

He gives Mingyu a small laugh, tired lines appearing on his handsome face.

“Since you refused to leave me when I got shot. Since I found out you were ready to die for your sister, not hesitating for one second. Since long before that. Since the morning you dripped milk onto your shirt eating cereal. Since the very first time you kissed me, the night you spread me underneath you. Since you said _hello there,_ _pretty_.”

The younger of the two suddenly finds it difficult to breathe. _Hello there, pretty,_ were the first words he’s ever said to Wonwoo. This much he would never forget.

“You shouldn’t have fallen in love with me.” 

_I have nothing to give you_.

“I didn’t.”

Mingyu scrunches his eyebrows. He doesn’t quite understand. 

“Oh?”

“I walked into it, okay?” Wonwoo’s words resonate in his ears, settling into his emptied mind, filling it with the warmth Mingyu’s long associated with the older man. “Clear mind, wide eyes. My feet knew where they were going.”

He looks at Wonwoo, the man brimming with love for him, the man who made the conscious decision he was going to love Mingyu knowing who he was, _because_ of who he was. Because of who he still is. They aren’t kissing like Jeonghan and Jisoo did earlier tonight, but they might as well be, as the intensity of the look Wonwoo is regarding him with burns hotter than a supernova. 

For once in his life, Mingyu gets what he wished for. To have someone love him beyond the shadow of a doubt and to be aware of that love.

Because humans are selfish beings, Mingyu wishes for one last thing: to be able to return Wonwoo’s feelings. 

“I need… time.”

“Yes,” Wonwoo says, soft and compliant. “I’ll take the couch tonight.”

He wants to kiss him again, Mingyu realises as he watches Wonwoo walk away.

He doesn’t.

☆

Mingyu calls him. The burner phone Seungcheol pressed into his palm before their parted ways serve the purpose. He’s not surprised that he remembers the last number recited to him, he must have memorised them effortlessly, just as he memorised all the other details about Minghao.

“Myungho,” he breathes out as soon as the line is connected.

_“You’re alive.”_

There’s genuine relief in his words, evident from the rush of his breath. Mingyu imagines he’s smiling to a little, a private one meant for himself, even though he must be alone to have picked up a call from an unknown number.

“I am.”

_“Are you okay?”_ Minghao’s voice is steady. Grounding. He still has the same effect on Mingyu regardless of the number of years that have passed since they first met in his father’s office.

Mingyu closes his eyes and thinks of the wine-read hair fanned out over his pillows, wiry limbs circled around his waist, the small kisses Minghao always likes to pepper across his jaw, down to his chin, and then up again, trailing a path to his mouth. Then he thinks of the faint discolouration of the skin on Minghao’s fourth finger, a mark left from the wedding ring he’s always taken off in Mingyu’s presence—the way it always taunted him whenever he dreamt of fully giving himself up to Minghao. 

“I am.”

_“He did promise you’ll make it out alive.”_

A part of him suspected that his brother would have told Minghao. Informed him of the situation, at the very least, if not asked for aid in Mingyu’s rescue mission. He can’t help but notice the strange lilt to the Chinese’s tone now. It’s strained. With regret, most likely.

_“I’m sorry_.”

Yes, there it is. The manifestation of said feeling, as heavy as a boulder. 

“For what?”

_“I should have come. You could’ve—”_

Mingyu refuses to let him think about that possibility. 

“No. You think you’d get rid of me that easily?”

An exasperated huff travels through the line. _“I should have come.”_

“But you didn’t.” 

It isn’t meant to be an offence. Mingyu is telling it the unquestionable way it is. He’s come to a certain awareness: he’s at the last page of this particular chapter, ready to close it anytime now. Minghao is, without a speck of doubt, the first love of Mingyu’s life. Nothing will ever change that. Not even the fact that he’s met the person whom he wishes to be his last. 

_“But I didn’t_.” If he closes his eyes he can see it. The scene played out from his memories. Minghao’s fingers slipping through his, so many things they kept wishing they could have done differently.

The people they are today lead completely different lives and their paths no longer cross each other's. But maybe—

“Better come for me in the next life, you hear?”

_“In the next life,”_ Minghao repeats after him; an unbreakable vow that would undoubtedly transcend lifetimes. 

The line disconnects right after.

Mingyu listens to the status tone for a moment before he takes the phone away from his ear and places it above Wonwoo’s bedside drawer. Then he pulls the warm covers over himself, decides not to care that his hair is still wet all over, and lets sleep takes him under.

That night Mingyu dreams of a man whose face is hidden behind a camera. The man speaks to him but his voice is too faint for Mingyu to make out his words, though he can tell from the speed it isn’t rushed or commanding. He asks the man to lower the barrier and allows Mingyu the sight of his features, but the man presses the shutter button to take his picture instead. With the blinding flash of light, Mingyu jerks awake once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [we're nearing the end fellas <3](https://twitter.com/_bloominsummer/status/1253742343175286784?s=21)
> 
> i’ve also come to the realisation that this story can be... very convoluted (SORRY 🤧). therefore if you need further clarifications to enjoy the story, my cc’s at @bloominsummer~


	9. Ch. 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You don't want to know why?"
> 
> "Why, what?"
> 
> "Why I chose Wonwoo to protect you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for Chapter 9: references to murder and violence.

Though the process took a while, long enough for Mingyu to start getting anxious about it, Jeonghan eventually kept to his words just as Wonwoo had vouched. His father was charged using the abundance of evidence Seungcheol’s provided him over the course of a year, the links strong enough to ensure a guilty conviction. 

As Kim Jaewook awaited trial in prison, a fault in the system placed him in the same facility as the man responsible for his first wife’s death. 

Two nights. 

That was how long he lasted. On the third day, a new guard who was making his morning round had screamed loud enough to wake the other residents. He found one of the inmates with his a knife stuck to his heart. A quick death, the coroner had told Seungcheol when he came to sign off on his late father’s corpse. Mingyu must admit there was a part of him that wanted something more gruesome to happen to Jaewook, but in some ways, he’s glad it didn’t. 

Relief washed over Mingyu when Seungcheol gathered the people involved in their plan over at Jeonghan’s apartment and confirmed their old man’s demise.  Soonyoung seemed the most satisfied out of all of them, while the Kim and Choi siblings’ reactions were much more muted. Minyoung stared blankly out of Jeonghan’s balcony which overlooked Han River, while Mingyu stared at her to make sure she was okay.

Soonyoung left with Jihoon right on his trail after confirming the next steps of the merger with Seungcheol. He threw a knowing look in Mingyu’s direction, then clapped Wonwoo amicably on the back once before he slipped out through the door, Jisoo locking it in his wake. 

It felt… anticlimactic. 

The main antagonist in Mingyu’s life was now gone, but the damage done to the people whose lives intersected with his is rather permanent. There are so many things he caused that Mingyu can never fix, no matter how much he tries. Devil claws that have sunk permanently into his soul, refusing to let go.

But then Minyoung rose from her place on the couch and walked over to him, slumping in Mingyu’s arms, _weeping_ , releasing everything she’s held inside her for so long and Mingyu knew something has truly changed for the better. 

The shadow of their past need not follow them into the future; from that moment on everything was in their own hands. 

He tightened his embrace around her and let her cry it out. As he locked eyes with Seungcheol, a silent understanding passed between the brothers. Wherever their paths lead them moving forward, they would walk it together. Seungcheol made his way to them and put his arms around his younger siblings, taking up the mantle of an older brother he hasn’t worn in so long, hasn’t been allowed to by the circumstances.

Across the room, Jeonghan pulled Jisoo into a hug and buried his face in the junction of Jisoo’s neck and shoulder. Wonwoo watched over all of them with reverence and tenderness written all over his features.

Mingyu closed his eyes and saw his mother’s smile behind his eyelids.

☆

“He really loves you.” 

Minyoung speaks out of the blue and through dried tears, tossing her tissue into the trash can three feet away from where they’re snuggling on the couch. It lands right on the mark; her aim’s always been much better than Mingyu’s. And although she is playing the pronoun game with him, it doesn’t take a genius to know who she’s referring to.

The man in question is sitting next to Jisoo at the dining table, looking over the older’s shoulder at something Jisoo is showing him on his phone.

Mingyu angles his face down to look and her, searching for an explanation for her sudden words.

“I mean…” She shrugs when she finds Mingyu staring at her, bewildered. “I don’t know how else to say it.”

“Remember when I wanted to go shopping?” Mingyu nods wordlessly. “I asked him then, how does he know you won’t sneak out of the house while he’s gone?” Snot is coming out of her nose, so he hands her an entire box of tissue. “He said he didn’t know, but you promised him, so he decided to trust you.”

Wonwoo trusted him even then? He sure gives Mingyu more credit than he deserves.

“I scoffed at him because anyone who’s known us for more than two minutes can tell that our promises mean almost nothing.” She sniffs, a pause inserted into her speech for dramatic effect. “But we came home, and you… were there.” 

_I was surprised too,_ she seems to want to say but refrains herself.

“And his eyes didn’t change, but his steps got lighter when he saw your shoes by the door.”

Mingyu isn’t sure what to do with that information. This must be half of the reason why Minyoung trusted Wonwoo that night. Why she had followed his instructions down to the letter, why she had waited for Wonwoo to come back just as he said he would. Had Wonwoo written to Seokmin in his will to carry out his duties and get Minyoung out of town, in the case Wonwoo fails to fulfil them? Knowing him, he probably had some sort of back up plan up his sleeve.

“I know.” Minyoung looks right at him and envelops his hand with her much smaller one. “I know we’ve been hurt so much by people who claimed to love us.”

Mingyu sucks in a sharp breath at her bittersweet words. She isn’t supposed to know this kind of pain. She’s eighteen, for God’s sake. She should be stressing out about college entrance exams, not her dead criminal father and the emotional trauma he’s inflicted on all three of his children.

“By people who _should_ have loved us,” Minyoung emphasises on the word _should_. “But just because we’ve been wronged too many times doesn’t mean there isn’t someone out there who can love us right.”

He hears Wonwoo laughing, a sound that entices him to look in the direction of the source. Mingyu watches him smile at Jisoo’s screen, his nose crinkling in delight. He’s seen him grow more and more at ease lately, no longer the blank canvass he’s presented himself to be in the earlier days of being in Mingyu’s service.

“Also, whenever I want something that he might refuse, I just pull out the kicked-puppy look I learned from you and he could never resist me. That’s purely whipped behaviour.” 

The colloquial term slips into her speech and it relieves Mingyu to know that some parts of her are still the way an average 18-year-old should be. 

“He’s basically saying yes to me because I remind him of you,” Minyoung adds, unnecessary.

“Stop outgrowing me mentally,” Mingyu grumbles, not knowing what else to say to her. 

She sticks out her tongue at him, action contrasting with her words. “I’ve outgrown you since I was twelve.”

☆

“Don’t you want to know the answers?” Seungcheol plops down next to him after he’s been demoted from helping Jeonghan in the kitchen by Minyoung.

Mingyu finds it hilarious that she manages to charm Jeonghan into letting her give him a hand when he knows for a fact that she’s worse at cooking than Seungcheol is—mostly because Seungcheol can at least use knives properly. Minyoung cuts onions like they’ve done something horrible to her in her past lives. And not because she does it with force, but because she somehow makes those onions look like mashed potatoes when she’s through with them. And that is _without_ any instructions to dice them.

“The answers to what?”

“The questions you’ve been thinking inside your head.”

“Alright,” Mingyu accedes, turning his body to the side to face Seungcheol. “If you knew Jeonghan was a police officer and you were working with him to take Father down, why not tell Jisoo-hyung about it?”

Seungcheol nods, eyes travelling across the room to settle on Jisoo’s figure. There’s a soft smile spreading slowly across his face. 

“Because Father can’t execute him for the things I committed if he wasn’t aware of them. Jisoo’s too valuable for the group to be eliminated for petty reasons.”

“So you chose to lie.”

“Sometimes, lying is a measure of safeguarding.”

Mingyu is reluctant to agree with that.

"What about the other thing?” Seungcheol prompts when Mingyu offers him nothing but silence. “You don’t want to know why?”

“Why, what?”

“Why I chose Wonwoo to protect you.”

Is that what it was? Protection?

Mingyu rolls his eyes. It seems like ganging up on him is on his siblings’ agenda for the day. The time fits their convenience, of course, with the main obstacle of his happiness having kicked the bucket. Or having the bucket kicked for him, more precisely. Mingyu probably needs to stop using dark jokes to avoid dealing with his feelings, but today he’s going to allow himself this much. 

“It’s a job, he took it. I haven’t cussed you out for that, by the way.”

That should mean the answer to Seungcheol’s previous question is a no, but the suggestion flies completely over his brother’s thick skull.

“I scouted men and told them I needed someone close to you to report all of your activities back to me. Unsurprisingly, most of them agreed without asking a single question.” 

Mingyu refuses to walk into his trap. He keeps his mouth shut, offers Seungcheol no response whatsoever.

“Except Wonwoo. He told me he’d sleep on it,” Seungcheol halts, stealing a quick glance at the subject of their conversation before he carries on. “The next day, when he came back, he had a huge pile of information on _you_ , but he was careful that there was nothing there that I didn’t already know. He said you were one of the good guys, which must mean I was one of the bad guys, so _no, thank you, I’m not taking the offer._ ” 

Seungcheol mimics Wonwoo’s way of speaking right at the end. Again, purely for dramatic effect. He is Minyoung’s brother, after all. They are bound to be similar in some ways. 

“He only agreed to the job when I told him he’d be acting freely, without any hidden instructions from me. After that, I planted him in your service and made dear old man thought it was his own brilliant idea to keep you under control. I chose Wonwoo because I know he was good.”

Typical Wonwoo. Good heart, good face, not so good taste in men. Or lovers, they haven’t had time to discuss the specifics yet. Not that it matters anyway. He said he loved Mingyu with his eyes wide open, but what does he _see_ in the younger exactly?

The pause in their conversation goes on longer than Mingyu anticipates, which makes him realise that Seungcheol demands a response this time around and is willing to wait until the end of time to get what he wants.

“Fine. So you found the one person out of the hundred who had a moral high ground. Good on you.”

Seungcheol shakes his head to let him know that he’s missed the main point of his lengthy speech. 

“Every single man of that hundred is more than capable of protecting you, but how many do you think would have jumped in front of that bullet?”

When Seungcheol’s words register to him, Mingyu jumps up from the couch, suddenly a little angry. 

“You—” His voice shakes, though he keeps it quiet to not alert the other people sharing the room with them.

His older brother smiles at his reaction.

Scratch that. He’s a _lot_ angry. How dare he—

“Are right. As I often am. I paid Wonwoo to watch your back, Mingyu. All the other things he gave you, those were his own volition. If I couldn’t get him to betray you even before he had the slightest clue to who you were… do you really think he’d betray you after he fell in love with you?”

Mingyu’s breathing grows heavy, blood boiling in his veins by how lightly Seungcheol had brought up Wonwoo’s ultimate sacrifice for him. Seungcheol remains calm throughout, which only angers him even further. His brother exhales through his mouth and looks up at him.

The older’s hand flies to wind around Mingyu’s wrist tightly, tugging him to sit back down on the couch. Mingyu yanks away from his hold, causing Seungcheol to sigh like Mingyu is making him deal with a child’s temper tantrum.

“You knew about Hannie.”

Right. Mingyu thinks it’s about time Seungcheol confronts him regarding this matter, too.

“I didn’t know Jisoo told you.”

“You’re not the only one who can keep secrets,” Mingyu blurts out, still pissed.

Seungcheol runs his fingers through his dark hair.

“Why didn’t you use it against me?”

What kind of question is that? Even Jisoo knew why immediately.

“Because you’re my brother,” Mingyu says it as both an answer and a reminder.

Satisfied by his reply, Seungcheol rises from his seat and reaches up to pat Mingyu’s head as if they were little kids and not a couple of grown men who have both committed unspeakable crimes. Mingyu leans generously into his touch on instinct, momentarily forgetting how crossed he is with Seungcheol to embrace the older’s role as his blood, his _family_. 

“Then you know I wasn’t using Wonwoo against you for the same reason.”

Seungcheol retracts his hand. 

Suddenly, with the loss of contact, Mingyu remembers something important. One last thing. 

“What did you tell Minghao?”

“That you might need shelter after I got you out.” Seungcheol questions his intention with a simple raise of an eyebrow. “Why?”

“You promised him I’d be safe,” Mingyu chides him. “Shouldn’t have done things like that, he’d come after you if you break it.”

“I didn’t promise him such things,” Seungcheol corrects him, possibly the gentlest that he’s been today. “That was Wonwoo. He was there to tell me he was going after you, to ask if I wanted in, considering Jisoo’s taken with you.”

Wait. If he recalls correctly, Minghao didn’t mention a name. He said _he promised_ but never actually told him it was Seungcheol.

“What?”

There is a certain softness in his older brother’s eyes that reminds Mingyu of the photograph he found in Jisoo’s drawer that one time. “I think if I had said no, he would’ve gone alone.”

Well, Mingyu thinks so, too.

☆

Wonwoo is leaning on the doorway when Mingyu emerges from the bathroom, only a towel wrapped around his waist to cover his modesty. Minyoung had opted to stay with Seungcheol at Jeonghan’s earlier, much to Mingyu’s disagreement. She told Mingyu to stop monopolising her and then, with a more subdued voice, practically ordered him to talk to Wonwoo properly. 

Though at the end of the day he still disapproved with her choice of accommodation, she’s an adult, and Mingyu has to respect the decisions she makes despite what he has to say about them. Seungcheol’s little smug grin upon being chosen was so hard not to punch off his face, though.

“Ah.” Wonwoo looks up at him, waving the phone in his hand. “Soonyoung just texted. He said he took care of the men who were surveilling the compound, so you can go back tomorrow if you want.”

“Oh.” That means he doesn’t have to stay with Wonwoo anymore. The storm has passed. The safe house he’s currently residing in no longer serves a purpose. “Right.”

If Mingyu is finally at the end of the long, winding tunnel, where the bright light of a better future is waiting for him, why doesn’t he feel as relieved as he should be?

“Right.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“Why are we awkward?”

“I’m awkward by default,” Wonwoo lifts his shoulders in a shrug, seemingly unbothered by the air of unease that surrounds them. “Why are _you_ awkward?”

“Because I have something important to say, I guess.” 

Mingyu takes a deep breath and gathers the courage he needs to finish this particular conversation. He did some thinking in the shower, a rather long and hard contemplation on what he wants to do moving forward with his life, now that it belongs wholly to him and him only. He took Minyoung’s words into consideration and—not that he’ll ever admit it directly to his brother—also Seungcheol’s. 

Minyoung told him a few days ago that she wants to try taking the exams for her high school diploma and maybe applying to fashion school sometime in the future. She’s already got an idea of where her path will take her, so Mingyu didn’t have to worry about her. Seungcheol hasn’t said anything to him, but Mingyu knows he has legitimate businesses set up in his path. For one, the cafe he brought across Jeonghan’s cover workplace. With the clean slate Jeonghan had bargained for him to have in return for being an informant, Seungcheol is, to an extent, a free man.

Now it’s his turn to set some twisted strands straight. Unwind the knots.

“I’ve made up my mind.”

Wonwoo sits down at the edge the bed and gestures with his hand, _go on_. 

“What if I say that after tomorrow, I never want to see you again?”

The flash of hurt across Wonwoo’s face comes and goes so quick, Mingyu almost misses it.

“Then you’ll never see me again.” 

It’s the answer Mingyu expects, the _right_ answer, the one he wants to hear come out of Wonwoo’s mouth. Knowing that Wonwoo will respect his decision no matter what is the last thing Mingyu needs to confirm before he jumps into this new, exciting thing with him. 

Wonwoo’s voice cuts through his short reverie. “Is that what you want?” 

The hope in his voice is saying, _please tell me no_. Mingyu can hear it, tangible as it is.

“No.”

His heart feels the lightest it’s been in a while when he tells Wonwoo that. Wonwoo looks baffled by his response, but that’s okay, he’ll understand soon enough and if he doesn’t then Mingyu will work hard to make him understand.

“Mingyu, I’m confused.”

“Don’t call me that.” 

They can’t exactly pick up where they left off, that would imply leaving things the way there were. Some of them have to change in order for this relationship to work, but this isn’t one of them. Mingyu’s intimate nickname, reserved for Wonwoo’s use and Wonwoo’s alone, doesn’t have to be scrapped as they start anew.

“What am I supposed to call you, then?”

A quirk of his eyebrow accompanies Mingyu’s answer. “You know what.”

Slightly nervous, Wonwoo looks up at him. 

“This is a bit too convoluted for foreplay.”

Mingyu crosses his arms across his chest and patiently waits to hear the particular word being said in Wonwoo’s deep timbre.

“Gyu, what do you want?” asks Wonwoo, choosing to be direct.

With his heart soaring from the use of the term of affection, Mingyu allows Wonwoo the answer he’s searching for to make him equally happy in return.

“You.”

Wonwoo’s posture changes immediately. Those dark, haunting eyes of his grow more alert just from the articulation of the single syllable. He straightens up on the bed, though Mingyu can see the slight tremble of his hands where they are placed above the mattress, fingers fighting against the urge to fist the sheets in his state of anticipation.

“How do you want me?”

“By my side,” Mingyu tells him, soul full of conviction.

“For now?”

The younger reaches out to cup Wonwoo’s cheek, thumb sweeping over his cheekbone. Back and forth, before he finally whispers, “Now isn’t long enough.”

“How long, then?”

Mingyu drops his hand from Wonwoo’s face and moves it below, drags his palm across the expanse of Wonwoo’s chest until he feels the steady thrum of his heart. Strong. Alive. 

“As long as this is still beating.”

Wonwoo finally allows the prologue of a smile that’s been playing on the corner of his lips to turn the page and starts a new chapter. He lights up when he smiles and the room lights up with him. 

Jeon Wonwoo is the brightest constellation in the sky; Kim Mingyu runs up the hill every night without fail to marvel at his beauty.

“You know,” Wonwoo’s tentative fingers skirt over the part of the towel that’s tucked inside, holding the fabric around Mingyu’s waist. “I’m not going to let you take back your words.”

“And you know, you can’t be with me and lie to my face about things that matter.”

Wonwoo’s smile fades before it completely disappears from sight. The room dims again, seemingly attuning to Wonwoo’s moods. 

“You have to be honest with me without me forcing the truth out of you every time.” Despite the sharp edge to his words, he keeps his hand on Wonwoo’s chest to tell him _you need to listen to this, but I’m not going anywhere. Not anymore_. “No matter how ugly things can get, you still have to give it to me straight. Protect me in any other way you want—but not lying. Can you do that, for me?”

He waits until there’s a shaky exhale of breath, followed by a quiet, “Yes.”

“Good.” Mingyu nods, satisfied by Wonwoo’s response to his question. “Anything I should know before we start this? And Wonwoo—please. Be honest with me.”

“Okay,” Wonwoo wrings his hands. 

Mingyu waits, a little tensed. He silently prepares himself for one final heartbreak before he hits the reset button and begins a new chapter. The older looks up at him from where he’s sitting on the bed, his legs now also shaking just like his hands are. 

“Gyu,” Wonwoo begins, and Mingyu closes his eyes.

Then he hears, “You need to shave so badly.”

Mingyu can’t believe it. He opens his eyes and finds Wonwoo grinning up at him, from ear to ear. It’s only fair that he retaliates to such teasing torture on his mind and soul by tackling Wonwoo onto the bed. 

“Are you—fucking—” Wonwoo elbows him in the gut, not too hard but enough to get him to squirm away for a second. “Kidding me—Jeon _Wonwoo_.”

Somewhere in the chaos of flying limbs and free giggles, their lips meet. Time, once again, stills. The world waits for the two beings in love to bask in the exhilaration of finally having the other person return to their space. Wonwoo moves his mouth against Mingyu's with the right amount of pressure, slightly chapped lips on Mingyu’s moist ones. Mingyu wants to lick him all over, maybe scold him for not taking care of his second prettiest facial feature properly, but he knows to take his time. Draw it out.

He kisses Wonwoo like it’s the first time. Exploratory, not quite knowing what the older likes, uncertain about which lines he should never cross. He kisses Wonwoo like he’s drunk on the taste of him. Like he’s intoxicated by the feeling Wonwoo’s fingers coming to caress the skin of his nape and the slight press of his nails against his scalp. He kisses Wonwoo like he wants Wonwoo to kiss him. Chaste but sure, as if there’s nothing else in the entire world he’d rather be doing.

When they part, Wonwoo chases his lips unconsciously, arching off the bed to continue latching onto Mingyu’s lips. The younger stops him with a hand to his shoulder. He looks down, surprised to find his towel still attached to his body after all that rough-housing.

Wonwoo clears his throat, his demand for Mingyu’s attention clear as day.

“I’m serious,” Mingyu reiterates pointedly when he looks back up again. 

Wonwoo nods, sincere. “I won’t lie.”

Mingyu raises his eyebrows. 

“I won’t withhold truths,” Wonwoo says eventually, defeated.

“Okay. I trust you,” Mingyu tells him and God, _he does_. 

Wonwoo stares at him with his eyes as bright as the moon outside his window, bottom lip caught between his pearly white teeth. 

“I love you.”

What else can Mingyu do at that moment but lean down and kiss him? He covers Wonwoo’s mouth with his own; this time Wonwoo opens up beneath him sweetly. Their tongues dance together unhurriedly, almost lazily, Mingyu setting the pace and Wonwoo following his lead. A wandering hand traces Mingyu’s back, up and up along his spine until they come to rest on his shoulder. He releases Wonwoo’s lips to pepper kisses all over his face. From his forehead to his temple, then down to his cheek.

Wonwoo tugs at the short hairs near his nape in a warning.

“Gyu, I don’t want beard burn.”

Mingyu ignores him and continues mouthing along his jaw. “Fuck you.”

There’s a pause which Wonwoo utilises to think over Mingyu’s riposte.

“If you shave, I’ll let you do just that.”

Mingyu props himself up by his palms, actually surprised that those words, in that exact order, just came out of Wonwoo’s mouth. Surprised and also _impressed._ They are ten minutes into this relationship, though not yet given a proper label, and Wonwoo already knows which button of Mingyu he can push to motivate him in whichever direction he wishes the younger to go.

“Are you using sex as a bargaining chip to get what you want?”

Wonwoo raises both eyebrows. The cheeky expression looks good on him. God damn it. 

“Is it working?”

Mingyu takes in Wonwoo’s face. “….yeah.”

The raven-haired man kisses him again, innocent and sweet, and when he pulls away Mingyu’s the one who chases after the contact. Wonwoo chuckles, clearly amused by the situation and the change of roles. The happy sound brings forth a feeling Mingyu knows he’s had for Wonwoo since he opened his eyes at the warehouse and found Wonwoo’s own orbs peering into them. He’s just hasn’t been brave enough to vocalise them, to shout it out from the top of his lungs, to whisper it into the ears of the man that the loves.

_Yes._

“Wonwoo, I…” he struggles to continue.

_Love you._ It’s only two more words. _Seriously, how hard is it to say that?_

Wonwoo takes pity on him and pats his cheek lovingly for his effort. “It’s okay. I know.”

From the look in his eyes, which Mingyu can now decipher, he does know. Mingyu is glad for that fact. He’ll have to work up to actually telling Wonwoo that because he deserves to hear it, but as long as Wonwoo knows that’s one of his biggest worries taken care of. He’ll show him every day, building his courage little by little in the meantime, until the time comes for him to be as courageous as Wonwoo has always been.

He’ll say the words then.

And Wonwoo will say them back with the same amount of conviction.

But for now, “I want to borrow a razor.”

Endeared by Mingyu’s juvenile attempt at creating a distraction, Wonwoo leans in to kiss him again, prodding Mingyu’s lips apart with his tongue.

☆

Wonwoo lends a hand to help him shave, an entirely intimate act that doesn’t seem to scare either of them off, which Mingyu takes as a good sign. Mingyu holds still as Wonwoo carefully navigates the blade around his philtrum, then over his chin and across the line of his jaw.

As Wonwoo clinks edge of the razor on the sink, Mingyu catches his hand and tells him honestly, “I don’t know the first thing about being in a relationship, healthy or otherwise.”

“Didn’t you… with… ?”

“Well, yes,” Mingyu considers it to be, especially toward the end, despite how turbulent the entire thing was. “I guess you can call it that.”

Wonwoo gestures to the sink, wordlessly telling Mingyu to wash up the remaining shaving cream he still has on his face before they continue with their conversation. With steady hands on his forehead, Wonwoo keeps Mingyu’s hair out of the cold stream of water.

“Just do whatever you did with him, then,” Wonwoo suggests, breath warm over the back of Mingyu’s neck. “I’m not fussy or anything, I promise.”

Mingyu finishes with a final splash and immediately pulls a face. “I don’t want to.”

He straightens up, towering over Wonwoo with his height advantage. Wonwoo gazes up at him, head tilted to the right in his confusion. “Why not?”

“Because… I didn’t get to keep him.” Mingyu leans down to kiss Wonwoo on the lips. He knows he smells first like Wonwoo’s body soap, then his shampoo, and now his shaving cream. He also knows that Wonwoo likes him smelling like this. There’s an implication, a _sense_ of belonging that comes with it. “But I want to keep you.”

This time when Wonwoo’s arms come to circle around his neck, Mingyu’s towel finally falls to the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! if you've made it this far, thank you. i hope this ride was as enjoyable for you as it has been for me. though we still have one more chapter to go, i think of chapter 10 as an epilogue & plot-wise everything is pretty much wrapped up here. ah~ imagining that in a couple of Fridays i won't be updating this work anymore is a bittersweet feeling.
> 
> i'll probably edit this note when i have gathered enough coherent thoughts to put into words or just something that isn't as cheesy as this to be honest but! thank you again! this project has been something different and challenging for me to delve into & i shall always treasure it.
> 
> anyway, i'd love nothing more but to hear your thoughts about mingyu and wonwoo or anything else basically so come talk to me on [twt](https://twitter.com/_bloominsummer) or [cc](https://curiouscat.me/bloominsummer) if you have the time. 
> 
> have a good weekend everyoneeeee!


	10. Ch. 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It happens just as Mingyu had predicted all those nights ago: **Wonwoo says it back.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for Chapter 10: explicit sexual content and disgustingly overwhelming evidence of minwon being in love; read at your own risk.

As he pulls Wonwoo’s shirt over his head, it hits Mingyu that from all the times they’ve done this before, they’ve never done it quite the same way. Wonwoo was always wearing a suit before, so Mingyu’s fingers would always work to loosen his tie, undo his buttons one by one, and tug at the strap of Wonwoo’s belt impatiently. But today all his lover wears is a soft T-shirt, the colour faded from years of washing, and a pair of basketball shorts. 

It’s different.

They feel different—yet also the same.

In the middle of getting turned on by Wonwoo’s unmatched visuals, Mingyu’s proverbial light bulb goes off in his head.

“Wait here.”

He walks over to the laundry basket and bends down to grab the shirt he had on today. Mingyu sniffs it first—he wouldn’t want to put Wonwoo in anything nasty, okay—and deems it acceptable for what he’s about to do. He’s back on the bed with Wonwoo in an instant, his lover watching him inquisitively as he tries to gauge what Mingyu is planning with the clothing. 

Carefully, Mingyu drapes his shirt over Wonwoo’s broad shoulders. 

“You undressed me only to dress me up again?” asks Wonwoo, his voice demure. 

Regardless of his words and the faint incredulity attached to them, Wonwoo still indulges Mingyu by obediently putting his arms through the sleeves. Mingyu’s proportions are slightly bigger than his, so it’s no surprise that his shirt is somewhat loose on Wonwoo's form. The older makes a point of this by waving his fingers, almost entirely hidden by the cuffs, in front of Mingyu’s face.

“There’s something about you wearing my shirt,” Mingyu admits reverently as he admires the view presented before his eyes. “That gets me going.” 

Wonwoo snorts sharply. “There’s a name for that, you know. Pretty sure it's called a _kink_.”

“Maybe.” Mingyu doesn’t mind if it is. He pulls Wonwoo off the bed by the hand, the older of the two baffled by his sudden action. “Will you button up the lower ones?” asks Mingyu before he walks backwards, away from Wonwoo.

“What are you doing?”

“Immortalising you.”

Mingyu turns away from him only to extract the digital camera he had rescued from the compound out of his bag. When he finally has it in his hands and the object becomes visible to Wonwoo, his lover lets out a delighted rumble from deep within his chest. His expression softens as he finally perceives the meaning behind Mingyu’s cryptic words.

“That was what you went back inside to get?”

“Yeah.”

Wonwoo smiles at him, creases appearing on the corner of his eyes as he looks at the Fujifilm fondly. “I should have known.”

“I think you did.”

“You’re probably right,” Wonwoo concedes easily. He leans back against the wall of the bedroom behind him, ready to strike a pose for Mingyu. “How do you want me to look?”

Mingyu reminisces the day he took Wonwoo’s picture for the first time, in that bar after their meeting with Jihoon. The touched-up final product is buried somewhere in his laptop—he has to share it with Wonwoo one of these days so he can see how regal he looks through Mingyu’s eyes. He had lead Wonwoo then, had told him where to put his limbs and which direction he should look.

Oh. How far they have come since then.

Tonight, he wants Wonwoo to take charge.

_How do you want me to look?_

So he tells him, “Like Jeon Wonwoo.”

_ Show me your true self. _

He has no expectations to what Wonwoo will show him, but nonetheless his insides twist in pain when Wonwoo’s face becomes devoid of emotion and his eyes grow cold at he stares right into the camera. Mingyu turns the angle into a portrait and captures his striking image, the bright flash shines on Wonwoo’s features for a millisecond before it’s gone. 

The result comes out as beautiful as the subject himself, the camera doing justice to his features. 

Mingyu’s sky-blue shirt falls over his shoulder, exposing Wonwoo’s smooth expanse of skin. His clavicle protrudes out, unabashedly begging for attention, which anyone who sees it will likely give. Wonwoo’s dark bangs fall into his eyes, no hint of a smile on his lips.

“Done?”

“Done,” Mingyu tells him, heart growing smaller for reasons unknown.

With a lack of an overture, Wonwoo surges forward to ravish his lips hungrily. Mingyu, in his shock, has his eyes open the entire time. He gets to see Wonwoo’s soulless expression morphs into one of pure exhilaration, watch his upper lashes bat against his lower one as his eyes flutter close when he leans in, witness the genesis of forever forms over the upward curve of his mouth.

“The one in the picture was Jeon Wonwoo for everyone else,” he places a hand above Mingyu’s heart when he pulls away. Wonwoo kisses his cheek and lingers there for a moment. “And the one just now was me for you.”

Despite how rapidly his heart is now pounding inside his chest, Mingyu calmly puts the camera away in fear of losing the irreplaceable picture of Wonwoo he just took if he were to drop it to the floor. After ensuring that it’s safe, he grabs Wonwoo’s face in his hands and kiss him over and over again, navigating the two of them through the room until the back of his thighs hit the edge of the bed. He releases Wonwoo long enough to manoeuvre both of them properly until Wonwoo is pinned beneath him, lips kiss-swollen and breathing ragged. By some miracle, Mingyu’s shirt remains on him, though the first button that Wonwoo did per the younger’s request is now threatening to fall off.

Wonwoo blinks up at him, eyes lidded with ardour. “Want me to keep wearing this as you fill me up?”

_Yes, please._

“Y-yes.” Damn. That did not come out as smooth as he thought it would in his head. “Please?” It sounds like a pitiful appeal.

“Since you said please,” Wonwoo teases, tapping Mingyu’s cheek with his index finger.

He lifts up his hips to allow Mingyu to tug his shorts all the way down, revealing the warm skin previously hidden underneath. The older then settles back onto the mattress with his arms outstretched, inviting Mingyu back inside his embrace. Mingyu accepts the invitation with pleasure and lowers his head to kiss Wonwoo again. His hands find purchase on the bottom hem of the shirt, twisting it in his palm before he sneaks a touch beneath the fabric, feeling Wonwoo’s abdominal muscle grow taut upon the contact.

“Do you have—”

“Yes—” Wonwoo nips at Mingyu’s neck then, undoubtedly leaving a mark if the slight graze of his teeth is any indication. “Second drawer.” He points an index finger to the left without detaching his mouth from Mingyu’s body.

Mingyu struggles to get Wonwoo’s supplies out of the drawer. Some parts because Wonwoo’s sucking on his pulse point like there’s no tomorrow, other parts because the older’s thighs are starting to rub against his crotch—and it _burns_. It burns a solid hot feeling that pools in his stomach, heat spreading to every cell in his body that, unsurprisingly, begins to chant _want want want_ in regards to Wonwoo.

The only thing that grounds him to the present through the thick haze of his arousal is the discovery that Wonwoo’s lube is peach-flavoured. 

He places his palm next to Wonwoo’s head on the pillow and pulls back, holding the bottle above the older man’s face and quirking a questioning eyebrow.

“I like the smell.”

The indignant tone he uses makes it sound like a lie, though it doesn’t look like one. Not from the candour shining through Wonwoo’s bright eyes. Mingyu smiles, satisfied, and pops the cap open to daub the fragrant substance over the fingers of his right hand. Wonwoo’s right—the smell is not bad. It’s rather sweet once it spreads through the air, though Mingyu can no longer differentiate between the lube and Wonwoo’s scent.

He puts his mouth on Wonwoo’s as he pushes the first finger in, so the frown forms against Wonwoo’s lips when he can’t even get the digit to slide in and out properly. Wonwoo catches on to his hesitation immediately and he frees his face from Mingyu’s persistent attacks. The older turns his head away from him, which Mingyu takes as a sign to stop his ministrations. 

So he does. Everywhere. His lips stop trying to taste Wonwoo and his finger, halfway inside him, stills on command.

“It’s been a while,” Wonwoo admits finally, glancing at Mingyu with the shiest look on his face. 

“Yeah?”

Wonwoo clenches around him in answer, then relaxes once more. Mingyu proceeds with his motion, doing it slow and careful, just enough to get his lover used to the sensation again. Wonwoo’s initial discomfort melts away after a moment and he gathers enough sense in him to offer Mingyu an explanation.

“Yeah. I haven’t been in the mood for long, so you were there last.”

“Where?” he nuzzles Wonwoo’s cheek like a puppy who’s just happy that his owner has returned home.

Mingyu senses Wonwoo rolling his eyes affectionately at the unnecessary question. “You know where.”

He does. To hear Wonwoo utter the words in confirmation wouldn’t hurt, though.

“Say it.”

“Inside me, Gyu.” Wonwoo’s back arches off the bed when Mingyu slips his middle finger in, now scissoring him open. “You were the last person to touch me.”

Mingyu crooks his fingers upward and rubs at the spot he’s memorised long ago and evidently still remembers, causing Wonwoo to squeeze around him, his thighs clamping Mingyu’s arm between them. Drawing him in.

_Deeper_. 

“Why?” Mingyu presses on, drops a kiss to Wonwoo’s torso, sucks his skin into his mouth.

As expected of him, Wonwoo doesn’t disappoint. His fingers thread through Mingyu’s slightly damp locks as he proclaims, “Because I don’t want anyone else. Because there _is_ no one else. Because I love you.”

“Why?”

“Why do I love you?”

“Yes.” Mingyu kisses him. Wonwoo kisses him back, making Mingyu wonder why it took him this long to find out that happiness could taste this good. “Kim Mingyu’s a wreck, you can do way better.”

Wonwoo breathes against his lips, tickling his senses. “Maybe.” A pause. “But I only want you.”

Hands come to wrap around his waist, to pull him closer. Mingyu lets them. He takes his fingers out of Wonwoo to grab at his thighs, nudging them further apart to accommodate him better in Wonwoo’s personal space.

“Mingyu sobbed for hours next to me, apologising over and over again for something he didn’t do, thinking I was too drugged out to hear his token of regrets,” Wonwoo voices.

Mingyu stops everything he’s doing to look at him properly. He doesn’t want to miss the expression Wonwoo is wearing—he wants to familiarise himself with Wonwoo’s countenances when he’s annoyed, when he’s sulking, when he’s surprised, when he’s in love. He wants to know all of them.

“Mingyu watches everyone’s back without fail, protects people he barely knows, loves with all of his heart despite how tattered he thinks it is.” Wonwoo touches Mingyu’s eyebrow gently and traces a finger over his brow bone. “He makes me want to do all of those things for him in return.”

“Mingyu isn’t defined by his family name.” The words are spoken with such certitude, Mingyu has no other choice but to believe in him. “Mingyu is defined by the things he does for the people he holds dear.”

Wonwoo’s thumb brushes against his lips. His eyes flick down to them for a moment, a prompt for Mingyu to smile, and when his gaze snaps upward once again Mingyu recognises the look he wears in Seungcheol’s eyes whenever Jisoo, and now Jeonghan, comes into his line of sight. It’s unadulterated love, given to Mingyu wholeheartedly without any selfish thoughts or ulterior motives. Wonwoo wants nothing _from_ him and wants everything _for_ him. 

Mingyu can ask for the moon and it will be delivered to him on a silver platter before the night ends. 

“Mingyu kisses me like I’m the most precious thing he’s ever come across, and I love the way he makes me feel, the person I am in his arms.”

Incredible. How in this chaos of a world, they managed to find each other. To be together. He listens to Wonwoo’s every word attentively and takes pleasure in how they seem to calm the storm raging inside him. 

“If _Mingyu_ ’s a wreck, then I’d like to take his hand in mine and ask him to make a beautiful disaster together.”

_A beautiful disaster_. That doesn’t sound so bad.

“I love you, Min-gyu.” He pulls out the syllables the way Mingyu likes to hear. The way _he knows_ Mingyu likes to hear. “What do you say?” 

Wonwoo’s fingers push Mingyu’s hair away from his face, tucking strands behind his ears, then the older is offering him an open palm.

Spurred by Wonwoo’s intricate confession, Mingyu takes the hand he’s offered with a light heart and a contented soul. He laces their fingers together, marvelling at how perfectly his fits in the spaces between Wonwoo’s own, the contrast between their length and sizes. Wonwoo’s slim, long digits against his thick, pudgy ones. Wonwoo smiles as he stares at their joined hands and Mingyu chases the form on his lips with his own. 

Many moons ago, Mingyu would have stopped touching Wonwoo right now in fear of getting scorched by the other man’s flames, but tonight he keeps his hands on Wonwoo’s waist even as they start to burn up. He welcomes the fire that consumes him with his arms wide open, lets it consume him wholly. 

From the ashes that remain, he will rise. Just like a phoenix. 

Stronger, better. 

He makes the promise to himself, makes it to his late mother, to Minyoung and Seungcheol, and lastly to Wonwoo. 

“You’re thinking,” Wonwoo whispers.

Mingyu gazes down at him and squeezes Wonwoo’s hand in his. “About you.”

“What about me?” asks Wonwoo, careful. “I’m right here.”

“About how to have you,” he admits in all honesty.

“Ah.”

A sound of understanding, as though Wonwoo knows it’s something Mingyu often give a lot of thoughts about. The older looks a little surprised by the acknowledgement, though. Perhaps because it isn’t something Mingyu would normally vocalise.

Perhaps he’s just feeling particularly eloquent tonight. As Wonwoo had given him beautiful words that smother his doubts and reassure him of Wonwoo’s feelings for him, now Mingyu wants to offer him as much and more. 

Mingyu leans in close until his mouth’s right next to Wonwoo’s ear, lips touching the shell. 

“I want to take you from behind, let you take me inch by inch until there’s no space between us. I know you like that best, your back pressed against my chest, my lips on your neck, your shoulders, trailing down your spine. One hand in your hair, or maybe holding one of your own, the other caging you around the waist.”

He feels Wonwoo shiver from his description, the words undoubtedly forming a vivid image in his head.

“But I’m also selfish,” Mingyu confesses under his breath. He plants an open-mouthed kiss beneath Wonwoo’s ear before he carries on, “I want to look at you. How beautiful you are when you take me so well, clenching around me desperately, wringing the last of my self-restraint out of me. I want to see your face, I want to look into your eyes and see my own desires reflected in them.”

When he pulls himself back up, Wonwoo’s eyes are glassy and he’s blinking feverishly as he tells him, “There’s always _that_.”

He tips his head to the corner of the room and Mingyu follows his line of sight, his gaze sweeping over Wonwoo’s furniture until he laid eyes on a particular object. He understands what the older means by _that_.

A full-length mirror.

Fuck. 

Even his dick reacts to the thought instantly.

Mingyu looks back at Wonwoo once again. “Yeah? You want that?”

“I just want you,” is Wonwoo’s prompt answer. "In whichever way, it doesn’t matter.”

He shakes his head, exasperated and endeared at the same time with the older’s answer. 

“Do you even know what you do to me?”

“The same as what you do to me, I assume.”

Well, Mingyu supposes that’s more or less true.

“I could start fires with what I feel for you, Wonwoo.” 

He means it.

“That’ll surely keep us warm, huh?”

Instead of giving his response, Mingyu swings his legs off the bed to move on to better things than talking. Wonwoo reaches over to turn on the bedside lamp, giving him additional illumination to navigate himself through the room without bumping into sharp edges. 

He lifts the mirror and brings it next to the bed, positioning it according to Wonwoo’s quiet directions. Once he’s finished with his task, he leans against the frame of the mirror and appreciates Wonwoo’s bare body laid across the bed. Waiting to be taken by Mingyu, waiting for him to stake his claim once and for all. Wonwoo realises what he’s doing and starts to put on a show: writhing around in bed and playing with the sheets, fingers moving up and down his shaft in ginger touches but never once fully wrapping around them. Still, Mingyu sees the bead of precum forming around the head.

Every night Wonwoo used to join him in his bed, Mingyu couldn’t help but think that whatever it was that they had— it was ephemeral. He was right in the end, nothing could ever come out of something built on lies and deceits. So he let Wonwoo go, despite how badly it had hurt him, because he knew keeping him would hurt much more and he might not be the only casualty. 

But Wonwoo came back.

Unyielding and even more dauntless than before.

This time, he offers Mingyu his true self.

This time, when Wonwoo’s bed dips under his weight, and Wonwoo immediately turns himself on his stomach in anticipation of Mingyu’s needs, he knows it will last. 

Mingyu kisses the back of Wonwoo’s neck as he slips his finger back inside. The mirror shows him Wonwoo’s face as he does so: jaw slack and eyes falling shut. He nibbles at Wonwoo’s ear, notes with satisfaction how it turns red at the attention it’s being given.

“Gyu, please.”

Removing his fingers, Mingyu presses the tip of his penis at Wonwoo’s entrance. The older man is thrusting up against him, impatient; his hole puckering over nothing but air. Mingyu teases him by rubbing his entire length between Wonwoo’s ass cheeks without actually penetrating him. He revels at the image of Wonwoo’s reflection in the mirror which shows him how his action drives the older insane with expectations.

“Hurry up,” Wonwoo barks, and this time it’s nowhere a nice request.

Mingyu needs to punish him for that.

He pistons his hips forward and slams into his lover wordlessly, Wonwoo jolting up the bed from the sheer force of his propulsion. Their eyes meet in the mirror and Wonwoo offers him half a wolfish grin instead of curses, as if to say _come on boy, show me what you’ve got._ And shit, Mingyu is entirely taken by him, because instead of wanting to fuck Wonwoo twelve different ways until morning comes, Mingyu feels the urge to make love to him. 

Slowly.

Softly.

Passionately.

In lieu of screams, he wants to hear Wonwoo whisper his name over and over again like it’s the only word he knows, the only tether to reality he possesses. He wants Wonwoo’s low moans to echo in the room, filling his senses to the brim. He wants Wonwoo’s hips to roll in tandem with his sluggish thrusts until they’re both exhausted and overstimulated, the sheets dirtied with evidence of their love. 

“I want you,” Mingyu descends to press his words onto the sensitive skin beneath Wonwoo’s ear.

Wonwoo tilts his face sideways, giving Mingyu a side glance. The impatience is washed away, replaced by a certain calmness brought about by Mingyu’s length settling inside him, his insides stretching to accommodate the younger’s girth.

“You have me.” A reassurance. “All you have to do is take what’s yours.” A soft urging, a gentle push in the right direction.

He leans away to admire the view. The two of them joined at the point where it matters the most, their bodies becoming one. “I want this to last forever.”

A light chuckle passes through the air.

“At least give me time for water breaks in between.”

With palms flat on the pillow, Wonwoo pushes himself off the bed until his body is pressed flush against Mingyu’s once again. Mingyu instinctively wraps his arms around Wonwoo’s middle to support him, finger slipping through the opening between two buttons to touch Wonwoo’s skin. He feels a hand being placed delicately on his jaw to guide his mouth to meet his lover’s own. 

Wonwoo starts impaling himself on Mingyu’s cock soon after. He’s on all fours now, practically swaying on the bed as he eases himself into it: the feeling of being filled, the feeling of being _full_. Mingyu watches him go, his mouth instantly goes dry just from looking at Wonwoo taking him inside, swallowing Mingyu all the way to the hilt when his ass meets the younger’s crotch.

“God. You are so beautiful like this.”

“So are you.” Wonwoo motions to the mirror with a wave of his hand, half-hearted, still focused at the task at hand.

He makes the mistake of following Wonwoo’s suggestion, because when he does look in the mirror he sees a picture that will haunt him forever. Wonwoo is biting his lips in between his teeth, his head thrown back as he loses himself in gratification. Mingyu’s name spills from his mouth without a sound, but he hears it like Wonwoo’s screaming into a loudspeaker. 

Mingyu himself doesn’t look better off, either. There’s a blossoming hickey on the base of his neck, a territorial hallmark left there by none other than the owner of his heart. His thigh is tanned compared to Wonwoo’s, a contrast from where they are lined up, their knees propped up on the bed. The prologue of bruises is evident across Wonwoo’s hips down to his thighs— they are in the shape of Mingyu’s palm, his fingers.

He tightens his hold over the curve of Wonwoo’s waist. Finding himself unable to move, Wonwoo is about to protest when Mingyu silences him by taking charge. He moves in and out of Wonwoo at a leisurely pace until the older gains an understanding that this is what they will be doing from now on. 

Wonwoo relaxes then, so Mingyu releases his waist to brush his fingers over Wonwoo’s exposed nipples. He doesn’t pick up his speed, he doesn’t want to. He wants to watch Wonwoo come undone, wants the older to fall apart around him. Mingyu will be there to gather him in his arms and help him build himself back together again before they repeat this course of action. Again and again and again until Wonwoo is sick of him. Even then, Mingyu won’t let him go. 

He has no plans to let Wonwoo walk away from him ever again.

“Gyu,” Wonwoo calls out, his breathing irregular, “are you going to—”

“No.” 

Wonwoo simply turns his face to Mingyu at that, asking for a kiss, which the younger complies to. “Okay.”

Mingyu sinks his canines into the juncture between Wonwoo’s neck and his shoulder, eliciting a guttural moan from his lover. Wonwoo’s body jerks a couple of times and with his convulsions return a sense of urgency.

“Can I come up?” Wonwoo pants heavily. “You don’t have to go faster—but please, can I come up?”

His arms are trembling, Mingyu realises, overexerted from holding his body in their previous position. Wonwoo is taking so much all at once and Mingyu can see his incredible endurance wearing off. Now that he gives it some thought, they’ve rarely ever dragged it out this long when they have sex, perhaps tonight’s even a new record for them. 

“Please.” Wonwoo is desperate now, he sounds like he’s on the verge of tears.

Mingyu slips one hand beneath the shirt Wonwoo is wearing— _his shirt_ —and slides it across the expanse of Wonwoo’s chest before resting it on his sternum, then places another one on his abdomen. He helps Wonwoo tilt his body back and oh—it’s reminiscent. Mingyu recalls them having sex in a similar position… was it the second time? The thought rings wrong in his mind, like Mingyu’s consciousness wants to register _tonight_ as their very first time. 

He must have gotten lost in his head because Wonwoo pushes back onto him and asks, “Should I move?”

His lover is looking at Mingyu through the mirror. Black hair, fair skin, red lips.

“No,” Mingyu tells him. “I will.”

“Are you okay?”

And maybe those are the words which finally make Mingyu think to end Wonwoo’s prolonged suffering. The fact that in his state of daze and confusion, Wonwoo still has the heart and capacity to think of him, to check in on Mingyu’s state of wellbeing. He’s conscious of the slightest difference in Mingyu’s demeanour. One hair out of place and he spots in within seconds.

“I am.” Mingyu shifts into a better angle and moves his hips again, thrusting into Wonwoo.

Wonwoo’s breathing stutters.

“Are _you_?”

“Besides the fact that I’m,” he pauses, finding it difficult to get the words out when Mingyu prods at his prostate with the tip of his cock, “engaging in the most frust—” he gasps openly, “t-t-trating edge play ever?”

Mingyu looks at him from behind his lashes, Wonwoo meeting his gaze through the mirror. He notices how the older’s body is almost entirely curved into his own now, the desperation is now bordering on distress.

"You can say the word.”

_I remember your word,_ Mingyu wants to tell him.

“I know.”

He presses a kiss to Wonwoo's shoulder.

“Are you going to?”

Wonwoo closes in vice-tight around him and Mingyu groans at the sudden contraction around his own erection.

“Does it look like I’m going to?”

Mingyu answers him by uncovering Wonwoo’s cock, previously hidden behind the length of Mingyu's shirt on him, and proceeds to drag his index finger over the tip of Wonwoo’s penis, coating the entire length of his finger with Wonwoo’s slick. He dips the pad into Wonwoo’s slit, causing the older man to hiss, a sound that reverberates through the room. 

Then he ceases his attack on Wonwoo’s manhood to bring the finger up to his mouth, pushing his lips apart with it. Wonwoo, not for the first time and definitely not for the last, allows him free rein. The younger paints Wonwoo’s bottom lip with the thick fluid before he angles Wonwoo’s head and sticks out his tongue to lick across said lip, tasting Wonwoo’s relish off of the man himself. 

Wonwoo captures Mingyu’s wandering tongue in his mouth and begins sucking slowly, massaging it with his own.

Within seconds, he pulls out of Wonwoo.

The older man whines imperceptibly at the loss of Mingyu’s cock inside him, hips pushing downward in an effort to get himself filled again. Mingyu reaches to the side and lubes himself up generously, then swipes a cool trail from the base of Wonwoo’s spine over his perineum. Wonwoo squirms, keening when Mingyu’s thumb presses right above his hole, moving in circles, almost like a massage, before he finally pushes his way back inside. 

Just one, swift, practised move—until he’s buried to the hilt inside Wonwoo. Mingyu knows in this position he must have nailed Wonwoo at his prostate dead-on when sliding inside him, which means he’s now poking insistently at it with every slight movement of his hips.

"Feels good?" asks Mingyu as he thrusts into Wonwoo.

"Y-yeah," Wonwoo pants, the sound heavy. "Good."

“Coming?”

Wonwoo can’t even rough out an answer, wrecked as he is. Finally, Mingyu curls his fingers around Wonwoo’s cock and starts pumping him fast, ramming inside Wonwoo with the same momentum as his external stimulation. The strength Wonwoo keeps perfectly hidden in him is nowhere to be found, he surrenders all of him into Mingyu without a doubt and the younger delivers him to the conclusion of their night. 

He comes with a choked shout of Mingyu’s name escaping his throat. He comes with the muscles of his stomach, of his thighs and back, strained. He comes with his hand covering Mingyu’s over his stomach and his head thrown back to allow the younger access to the column of his neck. Wonwoo comes trembling and shaking, tremors of pleasure running their course through his body. 

Wonwoo can barely open his eyes after he comes, but Mingyu will never forget the way he murmurs, “Thank you, I love you,” as he gently lays him down in bed.

_Thank you._

Hot tears slip through his eyes until they become wild streams down his cheeks. Mingyu’s glad Wonwoo’s not awake to witness him reduced to such a mess.

_I love you_.

By the time he stops, his shirt on Wonwoo’s figure is wet across the chest, but Mingyu is sated, he’s safe, and he’s loved. 

For the first time in a long time, he’s looking forward to _tomorrow_.

☆

One cool night months later, Wonwoo and Mingyu share their happiness over Minyoung’s acceptance to fashion school by making love to each other. As the sheets pool around their bare waists, Wonwoo traces random patterns onto Mingyu’s exposed back, unafraid to touch the battle scars that remained on his golden skin. Mingyu scoots closer to him as a gesture of welcoming the contact and ponders over how beautiful Wonwoo looks like right now. 

His hair is a mess, the length now growing over his ears—no longer cropped neat as it used to be. Mingyu misses his undercut dearly, but Wonwoo looks good either way. He keeps it this way now, since a formal appearance is not necessary for his current job: a bartender at one of Seungcheol’s establishments. Seokmin had asked him to hang up the mantle on protection services, which Wonwoo agreed to without any second thoughts because if the roles were reversed, he would want Seokmin to do the same and stop putting his precious life on the line.

Mingyu, on the other hand, scored a job at a small photo studio downtown a month back. His college diploma was obtained long ago and there were some questions about the time gap between his graduation to his current employment, but they worked around it with some white lies that wouldn’t hurt anyone. Wonwoo drives him to and then back from the photography classes he attends on the side, never once complaining. 

Life is good, really good. Seokmin even stopped throwing him dirty looks at dinner earlier this week, after Wonwoo almost wrestled him over the last bits of the vegetable soup Mingyu made. 

_How did you get him to eat greens? I’ve been trying to a decade!_

He couldn’t tell exactly Seokmin he had promised his older brother regular blowjobs for him to consume broccoli and carrots for the sake of his own good, so he had to settle with a friendly wink in the younger’s direction.

After finishing his exploration of Mingyu’s back, Wonwoo’s hand come to rest on his upper thigh, then his thumb is moving in a clockwise direction. Mingyu can tell he’s trying to massage the soreness out of his muscles, though there isn’t much of it to begin with. Wonwoo’s gentle with him tonight, simply because he feels like being gentle and because Mingyu hadn’t asked him to act otherwise. 

He buries his face into the pillow to hide his laughter. It’s ridiculous how happy Wonwoo makes him feel just by carrying out the smallest of deeds. More often than not, he anticipates Mingyu’s needs before the younger has to say anything. Telepathic connections do exist, after all, and Wonwoo is so damn _good_ at it. 

“What’s so funny?” comes the soft question.

Mingyu angles his face to the side and finds Wonwoo looking right at him. Wonwoo’s always looking at him. Not through him, not over him, _at him_. Just like a camera set on an automatic mode that chooses the object it deems most significant in its viewfinder to focus on, Wonwoo’s eyes have also made their choice. 

And that choice was Mingyu.

Mingyu shifts on the bed until he’s lying on his side, Wonwoo’s hand now placed delicately over his hip.

“Your eyes…” 

Wonwoo continues to stare at him as he waits for Mingyu to finish his sentence, an overwhelming amount of devotion dancing in his eyes. 

“They’re beautiful,” Mingyu closes in to kiss one of his eyelids, and then the other. “Will you tell them to stop pretending around me?”

At his question, Wonwoo gives a deep sigh and buries himself deeper into Mingyu’s embrace.

“Remember how I told you about my parents…”

Mingyu hums. “They were good riddance, you said.”

“When I was a kid, maybe 7 or 8, a man dressed in suit paid us a visit.”

This feels like another surprise coming for Mingyu, though for reasons that are now clear to him, it doesn’t feel like a secret Wonwoo deliberately keeps with malicious intent. It doesn’t feel like a hidden weapon. It feels like a piece of vulnerability that Wonwoo has yet to find the courage to offer him until this very moment. He leans closer into the older man, hand moving to the small of Wonwoo’s back to pull him closer.

“My dad owed him a lot of money, I guess. I was too young to understand what they were talking about _._ And I was snooping, too. I couldn’t hear their words very well.”

Mingyu starts running his hand up and down Wonwoo’s spine, trailing his fingers over the warm skin that vibrates gently beneath his touch.

A tiny jolt of electricity, a sign of life. 

“Someone pulled me away from the door, a beautiful lady in a purple dress.” Wonwoo pauses here and places a kiss above Mingyu’s heart. Then another one. “She told me not to worry, that everything would be alright. She asked me how old I was and I gave her an answer.”

In his head there’s an image of young Wonwoo clutching the hem of his shirt nervously, sneaking out from where he’s supposed to watch Seokmin play in the opposite room, talking to a stranger in his own home. 

“She said ‘ _I have a son your age.’_ and then, ‘ _I think he’d love it if you could be his friend._ ’ Since I was a curious child, I asked her for a name. Her son’s name, so that I can find him and be his friend as she had told me to. And she did give me a name… she gave me yours.”

Mingyu’s hand on Wonwoo’s back immediately stills.

“I didn’t understand what she meant when she said she would take care of things if I promised to look out for you, but I gave her my word anyway. A couple of days later, I came home from school to my father drinking in the middle of the day. He was celebrating because an anonymous donor had paid off his debts, for what reasons no one knew.”

The dots begin to connect. The big picture isn’t so blurry anymore. Mingyu thought it was fate that drew Wonwoo to him, that it was inevitable that their paths have crossed. But perhaps, it had been his guardian angel who had pointed Wonwoo in the right direction. As expected of her, his mother cast a safety net over her children even from the realm of the afterlife.

“When Seungcheol came to me with a picture of you, I just knew. I just knew that this was who the universe allowed me to live this long for. You look a lot like her, you know?”

He guides Wonwoo’s face with a finger on his chin to his until their eyes are interlocked. 

“Was my nickname really written in the file Seungcheol gave you?”

“No,” admits Wonwoo. His eyes are as steady as the beat of his pulse beneath Mingyu’s finger. “Your mother told me that.”

“Is that why you took a bullet for me?”

“Partially.”

“Do you regret it?”

When he brought Wonwoo to the cemetery on the anniversary of her death, the older man’s words to his mother had been to tell her not to worry _anymore_ because Mingyu was safe _now_. _Now_ because Wonwoo had finally made his way to him, had finally made good on his promise to look out for Mingyu. Young Jeon Wonwoo swore a solemn vow the adult version of himself would do anything to keep.

“You know, it never really clicked for me who was the donor that helped my father out. Not until you brought me along with you into Jisoo’s office that one night. I understood then that you were doing as your mother had done, though I’m sure you weren’t aware of her actions. I loved you then, Mingyu. I couldn’t fight it and I didn’t want to.”

Mingyu sucks in a sharp breath. What was it that Wonwoo had said? 

_Clear mind, wide eyes_.

“If she hadn’t done that, you know what would happen… I would have been taken as collateral. I would have been Jisoo, or Jihoon, or _dead_.”

_My feet knew where they were going._

“I decided I would have taken a thousand poisoned arrows to the heart if it meant saving you, since for all I know you’re saving countless children yourself. So, no, I didn’t do it just because I owe it to the beautiful lady from my past, and I don’t regret it. I won’t ever regret it.”

“Don’t say that,” the younger whispers, his voice borders on cracking from the waves of emotion passing over him. “About dying for me… I don’t want that. Let’s live together from now on. Just… live. We’re going to grow old and die boring deaths in our bed, holding each other. No bullets, no knives, none of that gang bullshit. You hear me?”

“Gyu, I have nothing to hide from you anymore.” 

Wonwoo is sharing the truth with him, just as he’s promised to do.

“I love you.” Mingyu hears, and this time—for the first time—the words are said in his own voice.

Wonwoo’s eyes do nothing to conceal his surprise. Then, shortly after his lover recovers from his initial shock, it happens just as Mingyu had predicted all those nights ago: Wonwoo says it back.

* * *

— perhaps the best way to fall in love is to fall for the sight of someone's soul.

fin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and there you have it, everyone. i think it's still wongyu day in some parts of the world, so happy wongyu day to you!
> 
> oh, oh also if you're wondering [here's](https://twitter.com/_bloominsummer/status/1258787783121854464) the pic mingyu takes of wonwoo hasjkdhfsdkh 
> 
> as some people have picked up that this work is now part of a series, i'd just like to clarify, as to not lead anyone on: the next instalments will revolve around characters introduced in this fic, however they might or might not be a continuation to mingyu & wonwoo's story. hopefully, if i have enough time to write in the following month, something should drop around June 10th (i'll leave it to you as to why that date in particular). 
> 
> again, thank you very much for embarking in this journey with me!!! for all the comments & cc's that never fail to put a smile on my face.
> 
> until next time,  
> <3

**Author's Note:**

> [twt](https://twitter.com/_bloominsummer) | [cc](https://curiouscat.me/bloominsummer)


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